


Annie's Games

by jeanvaljeanralphio



Series: Survivors [1]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: District 4, F/M, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-18
Updated: 2015-03-30
Packaged: 2018-01-12 22:39:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 24
Words: 85,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1203154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeanvaljeanralphio/pseuds/jeanvaljeanralphio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Annie Cresta has spent her entire life trying not to think about the Hunger Games, something which is nearly impossible in District 4. While normally she prays that her name won't get called at the annual Reaping, this year she volunteers to save a young girl she doesn't even know. What's more, her relationship with her mentor and only friend, Finnick Odair, seems to be more complicated than it should be. She's thrust headfirst into training, into the most vicious group of tributes, and into situations that force her to redefine herself. All she can do now is hope she can somehow make it home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Reaping

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lovelyleias](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelyleias/gifts).



Annie opens her eyes, then immediately snaps them shut again. She left her window open last night, so her room this morning is a tidal wave of white light that still manages to burn, even through her eyelids. The only downside she can ever find to living on the coast is the sheer brightness of the sun. Though, she supposes, it could be this bright everywhere. She'll probably never find out, something she’s more than okay with. The only way she’ll ever leave District 4 is if she goes to the Capitol, and that's a fate she’s spent her entire life avoiding.

Reluctantly, she lets her eyes slide open, then, with a deep yawn, swings her feet off the bed and stands up. She walks over to her window and leans out of it, inhaling the smells of salt water and sand and fried fish that are wafting up to her from the street. The ocean is glittering, just a few blocks away from her, and the sounds of celebration echo from the whole city. She inhales another noseful of that intoxicating smell before looking down to see the commotion.

Kids are running through the streets, every which way, while adults walk slowly, chatting with each other, every now and then glancing around to see if they lost their child. Everyone seems to be dressed up. They’re all heading in one direction: towards the center of town. Annie smacks herself on the forehead and pulls back into her room when she realizes what day it is.

The reaping.

Even now, a little knot of anxiety bundles in her stomach, forcing her to take a deep breath. She’s managed to avoid being reaped for five years now. There are only six slips of paper in the bowl that have her name on them, meaning there’s only a six-in-some-high-number chance that she’ll be picked. Overall, the odds of her name coming out of that bowl are slim.

Fighting has never been Annie’s strong suit. Whenever they have mandatory training days in school, she always struggles through them. Because of that, she's always singled out. Poor, pathetic little Annie Cresta, who bruises like a peach and cries if someone gets hurt. Everyone else in her group always excels, but her arms were too weak to throw a trident properly. Or that’s what she tells people. She isn’t stupid; she knows how fortunate she is to grow up in District 4. There's always food on her table, even if she has to catch it. She’s never gone to bed hungry, which is more than people in some other Districts could say. She’s heard rumors that most of the people in 12 don’t have anything. Whether or not it's true, it makes Annie grateful, but also sad. Being from a richer district means a distinct advantage going into the arena. Annie isn’t necessarily weak. She just doesn’t want anyone to die.

A chorus of children’s laughter flies in through her window, pulling her out of her train of thought. All of a sudden, she has to go for a swim. Her nightgown is off in a flash, crumpled in a heap on her otherwise clean floor. Her favorite blue swimsuit is hanging on a hook by her dresser. It’s her most worn item of clothing. In fact, she usually wears it under any other outfit. She pulls an old white dress over her head, letting her long brown hair fan down her back, and runs down the hall. There's barely time for a brief "good morning" to her parents, and she's out the apartment door and down the stairs to the street, taking the steps two at a time, with unbrushed hair and no shoes.

The streets are about ten times as packed as they looked from above. The reaping isn’t for several hours, but everyone is heading to the square early. This is typical of District 4. People get excited about the Games. As she squeezes past a group of adults, she catches part of their conversation.

“I just hope my Camber gets picked this year,” one mother says to her friends. “He’s been training for so long—“

Annie covers her ears and starts to run through the people, and down side streets, until she reaches the beach. It's usually packed, but today it’s almost empty. There are only a few people scattered on towels around the sand. Promptly ignoring all of them, Annie sprints to the water, the white sand gripping between her toes, and pulls her dress off, letting it crumple on the sand like her nightgown on her floor.

She’s already waist-deep in the warm, blue water when she decides to dive. Eyes shut tight, she plunges into the ocean, water streaming through her hair and pulling all of her anxiety away. Just for a moment, she’s her normal self, and it’s any other day in the year. She exhales through her nose and reaches her hands ahead to help propel herself forward and then up to refill her lungs.

When she breaks the surface, she whips her hair back in a wide arc and lets her hands follow to smooth it back. Her eyes open slowly, out of habit, to try to keep out saltwater that barely bothers her anymore. She flips, effortlessly, on her back, allowing the waves to carry her out. The sun is warm on the front of her body, and she breathes deeply, closing her eyes as she exhales.

If she wasn't facing the possibility of her death, this could have been the beginning of a perfect day.

She floats on her back for a few minutes, stomach tight and arms just barely waving to keep her above water, when something yanks at her foot. Screaming, she kicks wildly and lifts her torso so she’s vertical again. When she rights herself, preparing to fight off a shark or some other monstrosity, she’s instead faced with her only friend, who’s laughing like a madman.

“That wasn’t funny, Finnick,” she scolds.

“You should’ve seen it from my perspective, Cresta,” he says, half laughing. “Your arms did that flailing thing. You look like a seal when you’re scared.”

She glares at him.

“I thought a gross fish thing was attacking me,” she tells him. “I guess I wasn’t too far off.”

He laughs again.

“What are you doing out here?” he asks. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready for the reaping?”

“I could ask you the same question, big-shot victor,” she replies. He shrugs, or makes a valiant attempt to. It must be difficult with his arms underwater.

“I just wanted to swim around for a while before I was stowed off to the Capitol for a few weeks. You don’t know how horrible it is to live without being able to wake up every morning and see… well, that,” he says, gesturing out toward the horizon. She stares silently at the glittering ocean that seems to stretch out forever before meeting the bright blue, cloudless sky.

“I’m nervous,” she finally blurts, turning back to him. He smiles, curiously, at her.

“What?” he asks.

“I’m nervous about the reaping,” she admits. “That’s why I’m out here. Swimming always calms me down.”

He laughs again.

“You’re a piece of work, Cresta,” he tells her.

“Is that good or bad?”

He tries to shrug again before changing the subject.

“We should probably head back to shore. I’ve got to start getting ready. I have to look absolutely perfect for the reaping,” he says, miming a hair flip.

“Yeah, you should go. It’ll take you ages to look good,” she jokes. As he shoves her shoulder, Annie thinks that maybe the only reason they’re friends is because she has never fawned over him like the rest of the country seems to.

“Go home and at least try to look presentable for the reaping, Cresta,” he says, smiling and shoving her shoulder again. He turns around then and begins to swim back to shore.

“You can just call me Annie, Finnick, remember?” she calls after him.

“No, I can’t,” he yells back.

She dives into the water, propelling herself forward quickly. A few seconds later, she emerges right next to him. It's an accident, but it makes her look more impressive.

“Wanna race?” she asks. The words are barely out of her mouth before she’s back underwater, knowing he’ll take her up. Finnick never misses an opportunity to show off. Every few seconds she comes up for air. He's nowhere to be seen. She quickly reaches the shore, mere seconds before he does. Her dress is only a few feet away, and she grabs it while he shakes the water from his hair.

The few people who were on the beach have left by now. Annie's more than a little relieved by this, and she knows Finnick is, too. It's never fun to be gawked at by a crowd.

“Beat you,” she gloats, pulling the dress over her head. It clings to her wet skin, but she doesn’t care.

Finnick rolls his eyes and starts walking in the other direction, toward his house in the Victor’s Village. Annie knows he’s silently disappointed.

“See you in a couple hours,” she yells across the sand. He holds up one hand, acknowledging her statement. She smiles and starts walking up the beach, back towards home.

When she walks in the door, she notices her parents aren’t home. They left a note on her door, telling her they went to the fish market. Her dad always makes her favorite meal before the reaping. It usually calms her down before the stress of waiting in a cheering crowd to hear if she's about to die or not.

Annie is the only person she knows who has zero desire to participate in the Hunger Games. Everyone else her age considers it an honor. She considers it a horrific death sentence. Because of this attitude, everyone at school ignores her. Or, worse, they don’t, and Annie comes home with bruises, fighting back tears. Finnick is an oddity for speaking to her. But, then, he can do anything he wants at this point.

She tries not to think about the coming afternoon as she fills the small tub in her bathroom, strips all of her clothes off, and climbs into the lukewarm water, which isn’t nearly as comforting as the ocean was. While she scrubs sand and salt from her skin and hair, she thinks, instead, about Finnick Odair.

They officially met a year before, at combat training, when he was her sparring coach. He stood back, giving her pointers while she threw half-hearted punches at him. Everyone around them would shoot jealous looks at her from time to time. They couldn’t believe weak little Annie had been paired with a victor. Not just a victor, too, but Finnick Odair.

Towards the end of their session, a patient but exasperated Finnick told her to punch him as hard as she could, which she only did out of nerves and pressure. Instead of hitting him in the stomach, which he was prepared for, she flinched and hit him in the jaw. When he recoiled in pain, tears bloomed in her eyes, and she raced forward, apologizing, to make sure he was okay. Even though he assured her he was, Annie still felt guilty. Even to this day, people make fun of her for it. The only violent thing she’s ever done, and it was an accident. Not only that, but she had cried in front of Finnick Odair. Overall, it was not Annie’s best moment. He seemed to think it was charming, though, or at least funny, because he started a conversation with her when they ran into each other at the fish market a few days later.

With her hair clean and her skin smooth, she climbs out of the bath and lets the water drain away. She wraps herself in a towel and walks back into her bedroom, where she quickly dries off and dresses in her best outfit. The dress is slinky, strapless, and purple, decorated with a long draped sash around her waist. It’s the only nice thing she really owns, thanks to her grandmother. She only has two pairs of shoes, both of which are sandals. She picks the ones that aren’t falling apart and pulls them on her feet. Usually, she hates shoes, but, today, they’re necessary.

She hears the door open from down the hall, and the chatter and rustle of bags tells Annie that her parents are home. She smiles and walks out into the combination kitchen and living room. Her dad is already busy cooking, a time when it's unwise to disturb him, but her mom sweeps her into a huge hug.

“They didn’t have the crab, Annie, I’m sorry,” she says, tucking her hair behind one ear. “But we got some scallops and shrimp, and that’ll still be good with our grain portion.”

Annie smiles.

“That’s fine, mom,” she says, kissing her on the cheek. “It sounds perfect.”

“Do you want me to do your hair?”

Annie nods. Her mom starts back into the master bedroom, and Annie follows behind her. Another ritual that helps to calm her down before the reaping.

Her mom sits at the edge of the bed, and pats the bit of mattress next to her. Annie sits down and turns her back to her mom, who begins to brush out her damp hair.

“What did you do today?” her mom asks as she struggles with a knot. Annie almost never brushes her hair.

“Went for a swim,” she says, shrugging.

“Alone?”

“Yes,” she lies. Annie winces from a combination of the lie she told and the tangle her mom yanks through.

“Well, did you see anyone while you were there? A friend from school?”

“Mom, you know I don’t have any friends at school.”

“Annie, don’t be ridiculous. I’m sure a lot of people like you.”

When all the tangles are gone, she feels her mom separate her hair into two sections and twist them upward, one at a time, and clip the twists in place. The front is still loose, the way Annie likes it. Her mom secures a large barrette shaped like a starfish by her ear, then kisses the top of her head.

“You look lovely,” she tells her daughter, smoothing a hand down her cheek. Annie smiles.

“Thank you,” she replies.

They both stand and walk back into the living room, where her dad is tipping a package of scallops into the frying pan. He stirs them once, adds the shrimp, and then turns to his family. He opens his arms and Annie falls into them.

“You look gorgeous, kid,” he tells her.

“Thanks,” she mutters, smiling.

“And I don’t want you to be nervous, Annie,” he says, pulling away to look into her face. “It’s not your year. I can feel it. You’re going to be fine.”

She only nods in response, and he turns back to the frying pan. For an awkward moment, she stands there smoothing her dress. Unsure of what else to do, she sits at the small table where the three of them eat their meals. Her mom is already sitting there, but they don’t speak. Neither of them usually have much to say before the reaping. Annie is always too nervous. Her mom is too busy wishing she was excited, though she would never admit that.

After a few minutes that feel like hours, her dad serves lunch, which they all eat in silence. It isn’t much, just some fish and mushy grain, but it’s more than other Districts have. She recites that like a mantra at every meal. It’s not much, but it’s better than most. She chews slowly, briefly thinking she could slow down time if she takes a long time to eat. But the minutes still tick by, and she’s only just finished eating when it’s time to leave. Annie stands and puts her dish on the counter to wash when she gets home, then turns and nods to her parents.

She leaves the apartment first, with her head up and her shoulders square. They’re only on the second floor, so there’s only one staircase between them and the street, but each step feels like a mile. Everything's always really exaggerated right before the reaping, like she's taking her last steps, or her last breaths, or blinking for the last time and she's trying to enjoy these mundane things that she never appreciated.

The square is only five blocks down from their building, and it’s packed by the time they get there. Her mom kisses her on the cheek before fighting her way to the front of the spectators’ section. Her dad reaches up and rubs his palm down her cheek with a small smile before joining her mom. Taking a deep breath, she turns and wiggles her way through the crowd until she’s standing towards the front with the other 17-year-olds. She looks at the 18s ahead of her. Next year, she’ll be there. The year after, she’ll be back in the crowd with her parents.

Annie looks at the stage, where a microphone stands front and center. All around it are the two bowls containing the boys’ and girls’ names, as well as four occupied chairs and a handful of peacekeepers. The four people sitting down are the Mayor, Finnick, an old woman named Mags who Annie knows is the only living female victor from 4, and the District 4 escort, Mena Kari, who is talking to Finnick.

Mena’s dressed in aquamarine from her hair all the way down to her spiky high heels. It looks immaculate against her brown skin. Even her lips are painted that strange bright bluish green. Mena always dresses with an ocean theme on reaping day, and she's always beautiful, even if a little over the top.

A bell chimes over the speakers scattered around the square. The crowd woops and hollers, and Mena breaks off her conversation with Finnick. The mayor stands to lumber over to the microphone. He gives a short speech about how the districts rebelled and lost, and now the Capitol puts on the Hunger Games so the rebels can repent. Annie never listens to what he says. The same thing is drilled into her head every week at school. Finally he steps back, the crowd goes wild again, and Mena steps up to raise the microphone.

“Hello,” she breathes happily, glancing around the crowd. Everyone falls silent at once. “Welcome to the District Four Reaping for the 70th annual Hunger Games!”

The crowd roars; everyone except for Annie cheers and claps. Mena holds up her hands and silence falls again. She smiles widely at their reaction.

“You all know the drill by now, don’t you?” she asks, laughing. Everyone laughs with her. “I’ll draw one name from each bowl, one male and one female. If you hear your name, come up on stage, and then we’ll get you ready to compete in this year’s Hunger Games! And, as always, may the odds be ever in your favor!”

The crowd cheers again as she reaches for the bowl to her left. She rifles around with all the slips of paper for a moment before withdrawing one. She opens it and turns back to the crowd.

“This year’s male tribute is….” She glances at the paper. “Sebastian Dehlia!”

There is a sea of cheering that erupts as Sebastian dislodges himself from the group of 15s and moves up the middle pathway to the stage. He’s tall and muscular. His blond hair is short, his skin is tan. Overall, very attractive. He’ll probably do well in the arena. The entire way up, he pumps his fists in the air. He shakes hands with Mena, then Mags, then the Mayor, and finally Finnick before standing just behind Mena and to her left.

“Do we have any volunteer tributes?” Mena asks the crowd.

“I hope not!” Sebastian calls out, laughing. The whole crowd laughs, too. Even Finnick smiles. Volunteers are rare in District 4, since participating in the Games is such an honor, and no one would want to take that chance from another person.

Mena lifts her hands to make the crowd quiet again, then slides the slip of paper containing Sebastian’s name into her pocket. She reaches into the second bowl, to her right, digs around for an eternity, and withdraws the second slip of paper. Annie can feel her heartbeat in her ears. Spots appear in her vision, and she realizes that she stopped breathing. Mena turns back to the crowd.

“This year’s female tribute is….” She glances down again at the slip of paper in her hands. “Twenny Clearing!”

Another wave of noise fills the square. Annie cranes her neck, looking around the crowd of older kids. Tributes are usually 15 or older, since they have more slips in the bowls. She notices that all the older kids are looking back, though. She turns and sees a young girl, probably only 12-years-old, with dark hair and tan skin, slowly making her way up the pathway. She’s sheepishly waving to the people around her. There have been 12s before. They’re usually the most excited because they can’t believe how lucky they are to get picked their first year.

“Look, she’s so happy she’s crying!” says someone to Annie’s left. She looks at the girl more closely and sees that, yes, her cheeks are shiny with tears. She’s smiling, but her eyes look dead. She’s waving, but her hands are shaking.

This girl isn’t happy. This girl is terrified.

She reaches the stage, shakes hands with everyone, then stands to Mena’s right.

“Any volunteers?” Mena offers again, only because she has to. The crowd starts to laugh again. Because, to them, this girl obviously wants to go. Everyone wants to go. Twenny is crying harder now.

The next thing Annie knows, she’s in the pathway, walking to the stage. One of her hands is raised, the other holding up her skirt. She’s yelling something she can’t exactly comprehend, because she can’t hear anything. From head to toe, her entire body is shaking. The sun is still up, but her circulation has stopped. She’s frozen, but still she’s walking, she’s almost to the stage, and the girl, Twenny, is smiling now and so grateful.

Somehow, that rights everything. Warmth and feeling and all of Annie’s senses come crashing back to her. She hears the baffled crowd all around her, and she hears what she’s been yelling.

“I volunteer as tribute!”


	2. Goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After volunteering, Annie faces what it means to be a tribute, and what it means when Finnick is her mentor instead of her friend.

Annie’s still shaking as she walks up to the stage. Twenny immediately runs forward and hugs her, tight, around the waist. She absentmindedly places her hands on the girl’s shoulders. The crowd turns into a blur of people when she turns her head to try to find her parents. They’re gone, swallowed up by the sea of District 4 citizens. Twenny then lets her go and runs off the stage and back into the group of 12s she had emerged from. It occurs to her just now that she’s on camera. The entire country just saw that, or they’re going to later. Will they see it as an act of mercy? Or as Annie wanting so badly to compete that she robbed a little girl of the chance? She’s not even sure which one she would prefer.

Mena is beckoning to her, like she’s trying to pull her forward with her mind. She looks vaguely confused. Annie is positive that she looks lost. She can feel every one of the thousands of eyes that are watching her slow steps across the stage. The people of District 4 seem to be confused, or angry, or ecstatic, but they can’t collectively decide. There’s a jumbled mush of yells and cheers as she settles behind the microphone. Mena places her hand on the small of Annie’s back as she begins talking. For some reason, this makes Annie uncomfortable.

“And what’s your name?” Mena asks. Her voice seems even more sickly sweet than normal. Mena’s voice has an odd trill to it, so it sounds like she’s singing everything. In the past, Annie found it annoying but tolerable. At the moment, though, it’s making her irrationally angry.

“Annie Cresta,” she says, as proudly as she can. The crowd bombards her with equal amounts of hatred and love. She adopts a smile and waves to them.

“And what prompted you to volunteer for that girl, Annie?”

For a brief moment, she freezes. She’s in the Games now. She’s a tribute. Every move she makes from here on out could determine if she lives or dies. This is her first opportunity to win over the people of Panem, and apparently win back some of her own District. She widens her smile and actually grabs the pole of the microphone to speak.

“Well, Mena, that girl was so small,” she begins. “I thought, why should she needlessly die in the arena when she should grow and try again in a few years? And then I thought, ‘Why, Annie! You’re stronger and smarter and faster than she is. Why don’t you volunteer?’ So I did. So I could try my best at ensuring a District Four victory!”

To her relief, the spectators all cheer. The older kids, though, the potential tributes who all know her, aren’t so dazzled. Their outrage is quickly overpowered by the love from everyone else. Some of them begin chanting her name. She flashes another smile and waves in their direction. Even Mena bursts out clapping before shaking Annie’s hand. Then she moves to the Mayor, who claps a congratulatory hand on her shoulder. Next is Mags, who not only shakes her hand, but pulls her close to kiss her on the cheek. And then Annie is face to face with Finnick, who shakes her hand for a very long moment, a look of pity and fear knit across his face. Finally, she turns to shake hands with Sebastian, but he pulls her into a huge, rib-cracking hug instead. When he places her back on the stage, they both turn to the audience. The roar from them has reached deafening levels. Mena puts her hands up again, but it’s not until she speaks into the microphone that the people actually stop.

“Here we are, everyone! This year’s tributes from District Four! Sebastian Dehlia and Annie Cresta!” she announces, then stands back so Sebastian and Annie can wave or bow or say goodbye to the people of their District however they want to. Annie decides that waving is suiting her just fine, so she keeps at it. She doesn’t pay attention to what Sebastian’s doing. Then there’s an arm around her shoulders, and a peacekeeper is moving her off the stage and through a door that she knows leads into City Hall.

The peacekeeper practically shoves her down a long hallway and through a door partway along it. She’s in a simple room that has three chairs and not much else. This is one of the few moments she won’t be on camera for the coming weeks, so she sinks to the ground, hyperventilating. She squeezes her eyes shut. This isn’t real life. She’s going to wake up in a few minutes, in her slightly lumpy bed, and some proud 16-year-old is going to be reaped, and she’ll spend the afternoon swimming. She opens her eyes, and the old cream-and-maroon striped wallpaper of this tiny room in City Hall is right in her face. Nope. Not a dream. Her eyes sting from holding back tears, but she refuses to cry. She can’t have puffy eyes at the train station. Anyone who knows her will know she has zero chance of winning, and that wasn’t a fact she wanted broadcast to the entire country, let alone the other tributes.

Before she can get a grip on herself, there’s a knock at her door. She wipes her eyes and stands up just as it opens. She’s hoping to see her parents, but it’s Twenny who comes in. The girl runs to her, wrapping her waist in another hug. This time, Annie returns it. They stand like that for awhile. One minute, two, Annie loses track. Finally, Twenny pulls away and stares into Annie’s face.

“Why did you volunteer?” she asks.

“You looked terrified,” Annie answers. “I-I don’t really know. I just couldn’t let you go.”

“But you’re scared, too,” Twenny says. It’s not a question.

Annie only nods in reply. The girl hugs her again.

“Thank you,” she whispers.

A peacekeeper comes into the room and pulls Twenny out.

“I’ll be rooting for you, Annie!” she yells just before the door is closed.

Once the door closes, she sinks down into a chair and continues to hyperventilate. She balances her face in her hands and tries to just focus on her breathing. Too quickly, her door opens again, and she looks up expectantly. It’s not her parents, though.

It’s Mags.

“Hello,” Annie manages to say, not even attempting to move from her chair. The old woman smiles in response, and she remembers something about her being unable to speak. Then Mags walks forward and places her hands on Annie’s shoulders. The contact relaxes her in a way she can’t exactly describe. They stay in that position, silent, for the rest of the visit. The only noises in the room are Annie’s heartbeat, her breathing, Mags’ thumbs as they rub against Annie’s skin. When the peacekeeper comes in, the old woman dots a kiss on the top of her head and leaves.

Now, Annie can’t sit still. She’s on her feet, walking in wide arcs around the small room, wringing her hands. Then the door opens again, and this time it is her parents. Her mom is smiling and crying and just scoops Annie into her arms. Her dad is smiling, but only with his mouth. She knows what he’s actually feeling. He was the one who taught her to respect all humans, and all life, no matter what. He’s the reason she never liked fighting. He finds it barbaric, an attitude that rubbed off on her, much to her mother’s dismay. Except for today. Today she gets to be the apple of mommy’s eye.

“Oh, Annie, sweetheart, we’re so proud,” her mom practically screams. “All these years, we thought you didn’t want to go, but now here we are! Saying goodbye to our little hero!”

She holds her daughter at arm’s length. Annie forces herself to smile as her mother’s hand smoothes down her hair. Then she’s back in her arms, and her mom is blubbering and gushing about “her tribute.” She knows her mom means well. Overall, she’s glad for the support. At least someone will mourn her death.

Eventually, her mom lets her go, just as the peacekeeper comes back in. Her dad gives her a quick hug.

“Stay safe,” he tells her as the peacekeeper begins to drag them both out of the room. Then he calls, “I love you,” back to her just before the door closes.

“I love you, too,” she says out-loud, but she knows he didn’t hear her.

A few seconds later, the peacekeeper comes back and escorts her out the back exit of city hall and into a car, which takes her to the train station. Annie’s never been in a car before. She hates how fast it goes and how her feet aren’t connected to the ground. She’s used to walking everywhere. The city had a sort of hum to it that she loved feeling under her bare feet. Would the Capitol have the same feel to it? Probably not. She sighs and watches the city rush by her. It’s leaving too quickly, pulling away from her too fast. She doesn’t like it.

Then, much too soon, her car pulls up to the train station, along with four others, identical to hers, she hadn’t noticed before. Simultaneously, five peacekeepers step out of them and retrieve their respective passengers. Annie can mostly only focus on the man’s tight grip on her arm, and the cameras, even more than there were in the square, right outside the train. Sebastian and Mena are just ahead of her. Everything else is blurring at the edges. Each step brings her closer to the reporters. She takes a deep breath and puts on another smile.

The doorway in front of the train is roped off for the tributes and their team, but all around it is a madhouse. There’s a ton of people hoping to get a glimpse of her, or Sebastian, or Finnick. Annie waves in each lens, smiles at every person who calls her name, and then her peacekeeper shoves her on the train. There’s a table in the room to her right that she immediately sits at and lays her head on. Mena is standing near the far end. Sebastian is waving out the windows to the reporters who are only talking to Finnick at this point. When Mags walks on the train, she takes the seat right next to Annie and places a hand on her arm. She smiles and returns the gesture.

It takes five minutes for Finnick to get on the train. Every reporter wants to talk to him, or at least touch his arm. When he finally gets inside, he has the worn, ragged look of a warrior after a long battle. The train begins to move as he takes a seat at the table opposite Annie.

If she hated cars, it was nothing to this. Sebastian acts like it doesn’t bother him, but Annie sits bolt upright when the train really takes off. It quickly gets up to top speed, and everything out the window blurs by at 250 miles per hour. She tries not to think about it as she turns to Mena, who clears her throat and spreads her arms out wide. Mags fold her hands gently in her lap. Mena positively beams at Annie and Sebastian.

“Welcome,” she begins, simply. “We’re now on our way to the Capitol.” She pauses for a moment to joyfully clap. This is apparently a pattern for her. Sebastian is the only one who joins in. Annie lays her head back on the table. “The journey should only take a few hours. We’ll arrive a little after sunset. A lot of the tributes won’t be arriving until tomorrow, so you’ll have some down time tonight, isn’t that nice?”

Sebastian nods, enthusiastically. Annie takes a deep breath.

“Well, I’m sure Finnick will have a lot to cover with you both. But why not a late lunch first?” She smiles even wider. It’s eerie with her blue lipstick.

A door opens behind Mena, and several carts are wheeled in. Trays are pulled from them and set on the table. Annie doesn’t want to eat, but her stomach is growling. Excitement always made her hungry. Smells waft over her as lids are lifted, causing her entire mouth to fill with saliva. She sits upright and points to a weird brown lumpy dish.

“What’s that?” she asks.

“Lamb stew,” Finnick answers, somewhat coldly, catching her eye.

She shrugs and loads some onto the plate that’s just been placed before her. After the juciest, most savory bite of food she’s ever had the pleasure of eating in her entire life, she scoops up a little of everything. Sebastian settles into the seat next to her and talks while she eats and he fills his own plate.

“So District Four victory, right?” he asks, grinning widely.

She nods between bites. All the food is so rich. She’s used to fish and grains. Some greens or other vegetables or potatoes from time to time, but those were rare. There are meats before her she’s never heard of. Lamb? Beef? Of course, she knows what chicken is, but she’s never eaten it before. Everything is cooked to perfection. Flavorful. Tender. Each bite sends forth a stream of juice and sauce down her chin. Chunks of meat get stuck in her teeth, and she picks them out with her nails.

The food is so good that Sebastian has forgotten to talk to her. She’s vaguely aware of Mags eating quietly on her other side. Finnick picks at his own food half-heartedly. Mena is staring at Annie and Sebastian in horror, like she’s never seen such awful table manners.

Annie scrapes her plate clean and begins to shovel more food onto it. Her eyes meet Finnick’s across the table. The way he’s staring at her makes her blush and she nearly drops the spoon to some white and brown noodle dish with chunks of meat and mushrooms.

“What?” she asks across the table.

“Had enough to eat?” Finnick jokes.

“No,” she says flatly, taking a heaping spoonful of the noodles.

Not only is all the meat delicious, but the sauces are too. One is creamy and spicy, another is rich and savory. Yet another is almost sweet, with a hint of some fruit Annie can’t place mixed with cheese. She’s never had food like this before. Sebastian hasn’t either, apparently, because he’s eating with the same gusto.

When Annie finishes her second plate, and Sebastian goes for his third, Finnick steps to the head of the table. He looks grim, like he’d aged about five years since this morning. He locks eyes with Annie and talks while Sebastian eats.

“Alright, tributes,” he begins. He seems very official. Annie can’t help but sit up straighter in her chair. “This isn’t just food and train rides. This first week is all about training, figuring out your strengths and weaknesses, and damage control.”

“Damage control?” Sebastian asks after swallowing a mouthful of food. “What do you mean? We were great this morning. The crowd loved us.”

“Yeah, the crowd did,” Finnick says, switching his gaze from Annie to Sebastian. “But she,” he points at Annie, “totally eliminated herself as a serious contender.”

“How?” Sebastian challenges. He seems defensive of her, but Annie knows how. Finnick picks up a remote from the table and presses a button on it. Behind him, a screen plays their reaping. He pauses it as the little girl enfolds herself into Annie’s arms and the camera gets a nice shot of how terrified she looks.

“That’s a beautiful and noble thing you did, Cresta,” he says, nodding to her. “But it’ll cost us for a little while. You may have fooled the country with your super cheerleader act, but every victor knows that look, and all the mentors are telling their tributes, right now, that you are a weak link.” He’s suddenly angry when he adds, “Do you even want to be here?”

There’s a very long pause as everyone in the room turns to look at Annie. She lays her arms across her lap, holding one shaking hand in the other.

“No,” she finally says. It comes out as a whisper.

“Wait, then why did you volunteer?” Mena asks, incredulous. There’s every chance that a tribute has never admitted to being unenthusiastic in front of her before.

“That girl. She didn’t want to go either. She was so small.”

“And now every tribute knows that you have a soft spot,” Finnick continues. “You’re from District Four, Cresta. In order to have any sort of shot in that arena, you need to start acting like it. Now both of you just relax for now. We’ll talk strategies when we settle in the Capitol tonight.”

Then he storms down the hall and into his compartment. The compartments aren’t necessary. They won’t even be spending a night on the train. But, still, only the best for the Capitol’s newest play things. Sebastian shoots Annie a weird look, then follows Finnick down the hall and turns into his own compartment.

Mena mutters something Annie doesn’t catch before heading in the opposite direction, toward the front of the train. She buries her head in her arms. This whole situation is humiliating. And why is Finnick so angry? She wouldn’t have been a contender anyway, no matter how she’d reacted.

Suddenly, there’s a hand on her arm, and she jumps before realizing it’s only Mags. Somehow, the old woman must have read her mind, because she points at Annie, then flexes her arms, like she’s showing off muscles. Annie understands, but shakes her head.

“No, I’m not very strong,” she replies, standing to go to her own compartment. She feels bad about leaving Mags alone. But she also doesn’t want to see anyone at the moment.

Despite the fact that she’s alone in the room, Annie feels like she’s being watched. Now that she thinks about it, she’s pretty sure she’s been on camera since the reaping. It’s unsettling. She shakes her head to stop thinking about it and stares around her home for the next few hours.

It’s big for temporary quarters. Bigger than her room back home. There’s a bed she’ll never sleep in, a door that she assumes leads to a bathroom, a stuffed chair near the window on the other side, and a large closet that takes up an entire wall. She starts walking to the chair, to sink in it, or maybe take a much-needed nap, when there’s a knock on her door. She lets out a small groan and answers it.

Finnick is standing in the hallway, back straight and hands disappearing behind his back. Annie folds her arms.

“What do you want?” she asks.

“I wanted to remind you to change into something more comfortable and… appropriate for the event,” he says. She self-consciously grabs one of her bare shoulders. Anger cuts through her, white hot, now that they’re alone and he’s still treating her like a dog that needs to be trained. Finnick is supposed to be her friend. Her only friend. Ever. She doesn’t think before she replies, which is almost always a mistake.

“Is the blood of twenty-three other people available? I think that would probably be most appropriate.”

For a split second, Annie thinks he’s about to laugh. Then he whisks into her room and the door slides shut behind him. There’s a gleam in his eyes that she’s never seen before. More than anger, it’s desperation, even fear. He gets very close to her, places a hand on her shoulder, and looks directly into her eyes.

For the first time, Annie doesn’t want to be around him. This isn’t her Finnick, or rather the Finnick she’s friends with. This is Finnick as he has to be in the Capitol. This is Finnick from the arena, Finnick the 14-year-old who walked triumphantly back into civilization over the bodies of 23 children. Finnick the victor, Finnick her mentor. Finnick the killer. She has to force herself to take a deep breath as he begins talking in a low voice.

“Look, Cresta, whether or not you want to be here, you’re here. And by choice, I might add,” he says, eyes still locked on hers. “Are you scared? Tough. We were all scared going into that arena.”

She scoffs.

“You? Scared?”

He nods, visibly relaxing, but just a little.

“I was terrified. I acted fearless. And when you pretend for long enough, it becomes a part of who you are. That act got me sponsors.”

“Actually, I think it was your good looks that got you sponsors,” she says, smirking.

He crinkles his brows for a moment.

“Regardless, it helped me win. So if you want to live, you have to adopt a similar attitude. You have to be ruthless. Fierce. Mean. And, most importantly, you have to not shoot your mouth off about the blood of twenty-three people in a Capitol train. That’s how you walk out of that arena.” He releases her shoulder, but still holds her gaze. She forces another deep breath in and out of her lungs.

“Finnick, I don’t think I’m walking out of that arena,” she whispers.

He chews his top lip for a moment before he walks out without saying another word. A shudder shoots down her spine as the door shuts behind him. She knows it’s his job to keep her alive, but she doesn’t remember any of the mentors being so adamant from her years of watching the Games at home. But then, those moments were all public. She doesn’t know how they acted behind-the-scenes. Still, Finnick seems too invested, too worried. His anger is just masking fear. But fear of what?

She shudders again as she walks across the room to the closet. The choices inside seem to be infinite. There are a lot of fabrics she’s never even seen before, in every cut and style. Eventually, she settles on a blood red sleeveless top and black leggings. She keeps her sandals. All of the dresses are gorgeous, but Finnick said to dress comfortably. He’s her mentor now, not her friend. He’s made that very clear. It would probably be best to do what he says.

An array of jewelry is hanging on the back of the closet door. She slides a gold bangle on her arm and walks over to the window. The train is still moving too fast to really see what’s happening outside, but she can tell that it’s sunset. They’re about two hours from the Capitol, tops. She settles in the chair, turning away from the view. The chair is so warm and soft, and Annie feels her eyes beginning to droop. She tries to fight off sleep, but there’s no use, and, the next thing she knows, Mena is shaking her.

She doesn’t even remember falling asleep, but she must have, because the window is dark now. The room is brightly lit from a fixture on the ceiling. Mena’s blue outfit is so bright it hurts Annie’s eyes.

“What is it?” Annie asks.

“We’re almost there!” Mena trills. She then runs from the room. Annie stretches out and slowly stands, sore from sleeping in a chair. She follows Mena out into the big room. Everyone else is already there. As are at least ten peacekeepers. It’s difficult to count them in such close quarters.

She and Finnick exchange quick nods before she stands by Mags, who greets her by squeezing her hand. Annie smiles at the old woman, glad that at least one of her mentors wants to be her friend. Sebastian seems to be actively ignoring her at this point. He’ll warm up though. In a few days, she’s going to be the only thing he has to remind him of home.

Suddenly, the train begins to slow down. Mena is audibly excited. No one else makes a noise, but they all brace themselves so they don’t fall. When the train comes to a complete stop, two peacekeepers step up to the door. Mena rushes after them, desperate to make a dramatic introduction for her two tributes.

“Welcome to the Capitol,” she says, more serious than Annie has ever seen her. The peacekeepers open the door, and a flood of light immediately blinds everyone else in the room.


	3. Mermaid Out Of Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the eve of the opening ceremonies, Annie finds herself overwhelmed by the decadence of the Capitol. Meanwhile, she can't help but wonder about Finnick's Capitol mask while she struggles to put on her own.

Everything between the train and the training center is a giant blur of people and buildings that Annie can’t seem to differentiate. She stays very close to Mags as their small group navigates through the mob of reporters, peacekeepers, cameras, and even screaming citizens who want to greet the tributes as they arrive. Mena leads the way, smiling brightly, blowing kisses, grabbing the hands of her friends. As Mags follows their escort, she reaches back for Annie’s hand. She takes it gratefully. She’d never make it out of this crowd alive. Although, at least that would spare her from the arena.

A small path clears through the mob, allowing the small group from District 4 to pass. It’s still tight, though, and people are still shouting all around them. Hands seem to randomly appear just to pet Annie’s arms, or her hair, or her face. She smiles in the general direction of each one even though she’s inwardly cringing at each point of contact.

Suddenly there’s a hand on the small of her back. She turns, knowing it has to be one of the guys. For some reason, she deflates a little when she sees Sebastian. She can’t help but look to Finnick, a few paces back, who’s waving to no one in particular and ignoring the people touching, not just his arms, but his entire body. She averts her gaze back to Sebastian. He leans into her.

“Sorry, I just don’t want to get lost,” he says with a laugh. She smiles in return. A Capitol woman steps forward and kisses Finnick full on the mouth, bringing up a fresh batch of shouts and cheers from the people around them. Annie turns around and keeps her eyes on Mags until they’re safely inside the training center.

Mena, who’s easy to spot in her bright blue outfit, stands out under the bright lights of the gargantuan crystallized lobby. She’s patiently holding an elevator open. The rest of them rush into it, hoping to put as much distance between them and the people outside as possible. Mena pushes the number “4,” and the large glass box begins moving up. Annie watches as the ground slips farther and farther away. It’s unnerving, so she moves to the back wall and leans against it. She tries looking in a different direction, one that won’t remind her that she’s basically floating in midair, but she can see out of every wall, and everything just reminds her that she’s moving, seemingly unsuspended, through the air. Finally, she lets her eyes settle on Finnick, who’s leaning next to her with his eyes closed.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

He nods. She’s never seen him so upset, though.

“I hate it when they do that,” he mutters. It doesn’t take a lot to guess what he means. The kiss. The complete violation of his personal space. She touches his arm and he jerks it back, opening his eyes. “Sorry,” he says.

The elevator stops, and the doors open with a ding. As they all pile out of it, Finnick shakes his head a few times. Annie’s mouth drops open when she looks around the room they’ve all walked into.

The entire far wall is a perfectly transparent window, overlooking the glittering Capitol. There’s a long table made of some sort of red wood with seven matching chairs. In front of that is a lounge with an overstuffed couch and four armchairs, all surrounding a television screen mounted on the wall opposite the giant window. The entire room is bigger than Annie’s whole apartment back home. Sebastian lets out a low whistle.

“You said it,” Annie says.

There are hallways leading off either side of the room, which must lead to their sleeping quarters. Before she and Sebastian can even begin to wander, though, Finnick is calling them to sit down in the lounge area. There’s an eerie finality to the whole suite. Like she’s never going to leave it.

She sits on the couch and curls her legs under herself. Sebastian sits, back straight and perfectly balanced, on the opposite side. Finnick, Mags, and Mena all stand before them.

“Alright, tributes,” Finnick begins. “Before we go to sleep tonight, I’d like to at least get started on strategies for you both. Especially since you’ll be around other tributes starting tomorrow. Is it okay if this is a group discussion, or would either of you rather be coached alone?”

Annie and Sebastian look at each other, both seriously considering that option. Then she shakes her head and he says, “No, sir.” It takes a lot of effort for her to not laugh at the idea of Finnick being a “sir.”

“This settles things, then,” Finnick says. “Sebastian, what are your strengths? Any weapons? Hand-to-hand?”

“I know hand-to-hand, as well as various weapons including axes, knives, and tridents.” Finnick nods.

“And you’ve already shown your enthusiasm. I think you’ll be alright, as long as you get a high score during training. You’re charismatic, you’re energetic. People will definitely like you.” He turns to Annie. “You, on the other hand. Smiling and waving will only get you so far. Try talking to reporters. You’re also going to need one hell of a high score. I know you can throw a punch,” he says, jokingly rubbing his jaw. “Any weapons?”

She shakes her head. “No, not really. I mean, I’m okay with a spear.”

Finnick scoffs and folds his arms. Like the idea of a spear is insulting to him.

“Spears have no finesse. I can’t let you represent District Four, or me, with a spear. How about a trident?” he asks, and his mouth widens into a smile.

“A trident?” She laughs. “They have less finesse than a spear. Plus, the three prongs thing kind of feels like over-compensation.”

The smile slides right off his face.

“I use a trident,” he tells her.

“I know,” she replies. All the color drains from his face. Mags smiles at Annie while Mena lets out a single loud laugh. Finnick looks sideways at both of them. Mags pats his arm reassuringly.

“At least I don’t have to teach you how to be funny,” he almost snaps. “Spear it is, then. If I were you, I’d pick up knife throwing or something like that, too. It can get really useful in a tight spot.”

A memory jumps to her mind. Finnick, in the arena, cornered, trident on the ground several yards away. There’s a gash on his face, one on his arm. The other tribute, a boy, goes in for the killshot, but Finnick already has a knife buried in his ribs. The boy coughs blood on Finnick’s face before the cannon sounds. Annie shakes her head to rebury that image.

“Yeah, knife throwing, got it,” she mutters.

“Around other tributes….” he begins, then pauses to look at her. She instantly sits up straighter, unfolds her legs, like he would somehow forget everything he knows about her if she just looked more presentable. “Act like your allies.”

“And who are my allies?” she asks. He runs a hand through his hair with frustration at himself and shifts to address Sebastian as well.

“Right. I want you both to team up with One and Two,” he says. “They’ll also be well-prepared for the arena. They’ll be incredibly useful.” He makes a face, then adds, “For awhile.”

He speaks very carefully, avoiding certain phrases, like “prior training.” Although everyone knows that 1, 2, and 4 are trained their whole lives before going into the arena, it’s technically against the rules, and so not very good to discuss, especially within the Capitol.

“One and Two,” Sebastian repeats. “Got it.”

“That still doesn’t tell me how to act,” Annie says, at this point more than a little determined to inconvenience him, even slightly.

Finnick takes a small step in her direction.

“Like this is your birthright, Cresta,” he tells her. “Your entire life has lead up to being in that arena. You’re confident, to the point of being cocky. You’re a ruthless killing machine. But you’re no leader. You need to present yourself as a liability, not an obstacle for them to get rid of. You are strong, you are eager, you’re a little naïve. You got all that?”

Basically, be like most of the tributes from 1, 2, and 4 in the past few years. She nods.

“Good,” Finnick says. He picks up a remote from the table and points it to the screen. In a matter of moments, he pulls up the recap of the reapings. “Pay attention,” he tells them. Predictably, 1 and 2 are huge, strong, and very attractive. The girl from 3 looks like she could be some trouble. Other than them, the only ones of note are the boy from 5 and the girl from 10. Those are the ones Finnick points out to them at least. Then it’s over. Finnick turns off the screen and turns back to them.

“Now both of you go to sleep,” he orders. “You have a long day tomorrow. Especially you, Cresta.”

He’s down the hall to his room before she can say anything. But he’s right. Tomorrow is the opening ceremonies. She’s going to spend most of the day in prep, being put into some ridiculous costume. It definitely won’t be any fun. Not that any part of this is exactly what Annie would constitute as “fun.”

Mena smiles brightly at them before she slips back into the elevator to go to her own private room. Annie briefly wonders why escorts get their own quarters, but then Mags steps forward. She squeezes Sebastian’s shoulder, kisses Annie’s forehead, then goes down the hall opposite Finnick’s, and into her own room.

“He’s a piece of work, isn’t he?” Sebastian asks, hooking his thumb in the direction Finnick left.

Annie shrugs. “He’s just trying to keep us alive.”

Why is she defending him? This is the guy who was her friend this morning, but now seems to be bent on humiliating her in front of their whole team. She doesn’t owe him a single thing, let alone a defense. Although…

Maybe it’s because Annie knows him, but she can see the moments when Finnick has to put his mask on. Maybe he’s had his mask on the whole time, though. Maybe she, after a year or so of seeing each other and swimming together almost every day, had never even seen the real Finnick Odair. Then she remembers the elevator, the way he slumped against the wall after facing the aggression of the crowd. That was the first time she’s ever seen him in any sort of pain. Could that be the real Finnick? She hopes not. That Finnick was so despondent, so… almost hopeless.

“You know, I get it,” Sebastian suddenly says, making her jump. They’d been silent for so long she almost forgot he was in the room.

“Get what?” she asks.

“You don’t want to be here.”

“No.”

“Because you’re scared.”

She hesitates before she answers. “Yes.”

“I’m scared, too,” he says.

“You?” she asks, disbelieving.

He nods. “I’m really proud to be here. My parents are proud that I’m here. But I don’t want to die.”

“I don’t think anyone really wants to die, you know?”

They both nod and fall silent at her statement. There are a few minutes of comfortable silence before Sebastian stands to go to sleep. Once his door clicks shut, she goes to her own room. She even manages to get a few hours of fitful sleep before Mena is, again, shaking her awake.

“I don’t like this tradition,” Annie says, rubbing her eyes. The side of her head is throbbing, and she realizes she forgot to take the starfish barrette out before she went to bed.

“Too bad,” Mena sings. “You have a big day ahead of you! After breakfast, you’ll be in prep for the opening ceremonies all day. So get up! I’m not leaving until you’re out of bed!”

Annie groans and unearths herself from the soft down blankets and stands up to face her escort. Mena is wearing an elaborate gold wig today, along with a silver dress and gold shoes. Her lipstick is bright red. Absolutely everything is glittering.

“You look like fireworks,” Annie tells her.

“That’s what I was going for!” she trills. “Let’s go get breakfast.”

Annie doesn’t even bother to change clothes, but she does take her hair down. It sticks out awkwardly in places from being in the same style for so long. It doesn’t really matter, though. Anything she does this morning will just be redone by her stylist later.

When she and Mena walk into the main room, though, she sees that none of the others share her attitude. Mags and Finnick are already dressed for tonight. Sebastian is wearing a suit, which seems like a bit much for breakfast.

“Good morning, Annie,” he says politely. She tries to smile in reply. Mags pats the seat next to her, which Annie happily takes. Finnick gives her a curt nod, which irritates her. But not for long, because just then a flurry of people bring in a multitude of large silver trays.

Annie’s stomach grumbles eagerly. She hadn’t even realized the depth of her hunger. The food is barely even on the table before she starts serving herself a little of everything. Fluffy yellow stuff that Mena calls eggs. Potatoes seasoned with bright orange spices and covered in white cheese. Toasted green District 4 bread smeared with butter. Little links of spiced meat that she learns are sausages. Annie eats until she’s stuffed, then drinks down two glasses of orange juice.

After breakfast, the stylists arrive. They look like they could be brother and sister. Impossibly pale and slender with green hair and lips, the woman is wearing a simple black dress, the man a black suit. They each have a large garment bag thrown over their shoulders. The woman has a prep team trailing behind her, so she must be Annie’s. They both dot kisses on each of Finnick’s cheeks, then Mags’, then Mena’s, and then turn to the tributes. The woman takes Annie’s hands.

“I’m Stella,” she purrs in her thick Capitol accent.

“Irving,” says the man in a similar tone.

“We’re here to make you both look like gods,” Stella says. Annie finds this a touch overdramatic but doesn’t say anything. She shoots a look at Finnick, who nods. She turns back and smiles widely.

“Come, come,” Irving says, leading Sebastian back to his room. He and Annie exchange nervous glances, and then Stella starts pulling her by the wrists to her bedroom. The prep team follows, the makeup bags in their hands rattling while they shake with excitement. Annie’s thankful that her group arrived last night. Any of the tributes arriving today would have to go immediately into a random prep room for the day. She’s at least on semi-familiar ground.

Once inside, Stella sits on the bed while the prep team shoves Annie into the bathroom. They introduce themselves while they strip her down to nothing.

“I’m Straya,” says a tall wiry woman with white hair and cat whiskers.

“Caplan.” A short curvy woman with striking maroon tattoos all over her turquoise skin.

“Hugo.” The only man. He has light blue skin and red, orange, and yellow streaked hair. He’s transformed his head into a giant fireball. Annie stares at him in mild bewilderment for a moment. At least it manages to distract her from the fact that she’s completely naked in front of three strangers. They circle her body, taking in every flaw, every hair, every broken nail that she’s chewed off. She crosses her arms over her chest, but Caplan uncrosses them. They need to see everything. It occurs to her on their third rotation that she hasn’t even introduced herself.

“I’m Annie,” she offers, awkwardly, breaking the silence.

“Oh, honey, we know,” Straya says.

“District Four victory this year, right?” Hugo says excitedly.

“You’re going to be a hit, everyone will want to sponsor you,” Caplan chimes in. “Well, it also doesn’t hurt that Finnick Odair is your mentor. I think I’d volunteer, too, if it meant spending a week training with him.”

“Same. Here,” Straya says, enunciating each syllable while nodding enthusiastically. Annie feels her stomach turn over.

Hugo punches a series of buttons in on the shower. A jet of steaming, fragrant water shoots out of the spout on the wall. They shove her into it and start scrubbing her down and washing her hair. It actually hurts, like they’re scraping off a layer of her skin in order to get her clean. Then the water stops and they pull her into a machine that completely dries her in a matter of moments. A chair is pulled out of nowhere, and Annie is pushed into it. Now the “real” process, as they call it, can start. They begin by waxing her legs, which makes her cry out with pain.

“You’ll get used to it,” Caplan tells her, almost, but not quite, apologetically.

She runs a hand across her stinging, now smooth thigh.

“I’m like a child again,” she says, half horrified, half impressed.

“Isn’t it great?” Straya exclaims.

Next they make her stand to do her stomach, her arms, under her arms, and the little invisible hairs on her face, which sting the most. By the end of it, she’s positive that a layer of skin is gone. But then they rub her down with some sort of salve, and it immediately soothes the pain. Hugo holds out a silk robe, which she gratefully puts on before sitting back in the chair.

Caplan stands over her, holding her face, plucking strands from her eyebrows. Simultaneously, Straya applies fake nails and paints them the same pearly aqua color that Hugo puts on her toenails. When Caplan finishes, she brushes out Annie’s hair and curls it with a machine. Then she brushes it out again. Straya and Hugo flash dry her nails, and then do her makeup.

When they’re all finished, Annie doesn’t recognize herself in the mirror. The girl reflected at her has soft, glowing skin. Her face is perfectly contoured. Her eyes are an intense sea green because of the shades of blue blended over her eyelids. Her lips aren’t chapped; they’re full and glossy. Her hair almost floats around her face and shoulders. Straya sighs as they admire their handy work.

“See? Now you look human,” she says with another sigh.

Before she can say anything, the robe is pulled off her and she’s ushered out into her bedroom. A small table has been set up with snacks, which Annie walks to and begins picking over. There are only small things, like apples and crackers and cheese, but it’s better than nothing. It’s not much, but it’s better than most, Annie reminds herself. Stella stands up and walks a full circle around her. Annie can feel the stylist’s eyes on every naked inch of her body. She awkwardly swallows the mouthful of apple and cheese she’d been chewing and leaves the snack table alone.

“Perfect,” Stella says when she’s finished her rounds. Straya, Caplan, and Hugo all audibly relax. “You may leave.”

“Good luck, Annie!” Caplan calls, and then they leave her alone with Stella.

“I spent almost all year designing a giant octopus dress,” she says. Annie’s eyes go wide as she imagines herself with tentacles. “But then I saw you at the reaping, and I knew. I couldn’t just make you an ordinary, run-of-the-mill sea creature.” She holds up the garment bag. “I had to make you a mermaid.”

“A mermaid?”

Stella nods and unzips the bag in her hands. Although Annie hates the idea of becoming a half-fish mutant for the whole country, she gasps. The tail looks like it’s made of actual fish scales that change color as Stella turns it in her hands. The top, though, seems to just be two actual seashells. How are they going to stay on? With magic? She has a sudden vision of the shells falling off halfway through the opening ceremonies and she swallows, hard, to hide her doubt. Stella smiles at her.

“Well?”

“It’s beautiful,” she says, completely honestly in spite of her nerves. Stella’s smile gets wider, and she pulls the tail from the hanger.

It’s skin tight, and takes both of them twenty minutes to pull on over Annie’s hips. It stops just below her knees before fanning out behind her.

“Walk around a little,” Stella tells her. Even though there’s absolutely zero wiggle room between the tail and her skin, she finds it surprisingly easy to move in. The fabric is also light and doesn’t squeeze or pinch her. When she turns back to Stella, it’s with some admiration. She stands perfectly still while Stella attaches the shells to her chest with small invisible straps and adjusts them so that Annie has actual, full breasts.

“I don’t even look like myself,” Annie says. She looks like a weird, alternate universe version of herself where she’s about 25 and lives underwater.

Stella laughs and drapes a long string of pearls around her neck.

“That’s the point, dear,” she says. She then picks up the starfish barrette from the bedside table. “Do you mind if I use this?” Annie shakes her head and Stella clips it into her hair.

It may not be a good idea, but Annie decides that she likes this woman as she brushes some sort of shimmer onto her visible skin. Depending on the light, she glows pale pink in some places and shines light green in others. Only in direct light, though. When she stands away from the spotlight before her mirror, her skin is smooth and pale, like a pearl.

Stella helps her into her shoes, which are low heels that attach to her feet with straps that look like strings of tiny bubbles. They stay snug and tight, though. It hits her that a lot more goes into fashion than she had ever dreamed of. Of course, all she normally wears is her swimsuit under a plain dress.

Stella slides jewel-crusted gold bangles up both of Annie’s arms, and then she’s done. She looks in the mirror again. It’s almost impossible that the girl in the mirror is her. But then, there’s her eyes, and the tiny birthmark on her neck, which is now mostly obscured by the pearly sheen. She twirls and the fan of her skirt flies out behind her in various shades of purple, green, and blue.

Still, it’s unnerving. She doesn’t feel like herself at all. There’s a strange thing going on inside her, like she’s two people; the girl in the mirror, and herself, and they’re both trying to take control. She looks glorious in this outfit. But it’s not who she is. She reminds herself that it’s only for a night. She can pretend to be this girl for one measly little night.

“You ready?” Stella asks.

“As I’ll ever be,” Annie says.

Stella holds her by the elbow and helps her walk down the hall until she gets the hang of the heels. When they step into the main room, Annie winces to see all five pairs of eyes flip immediately to her. There’s complete silence until Mena lets out a squeal of delight.

“Annie, you look stunning!” she half-screams. “You’re an absolute genius, Stella!”

Sebastian’s mouth is actually open. He’s wearing a large gold net that’s been folded around him several times and then thrown over his shoulder. The little holes are filled with various jewels and pearls. His skin looks a little tanner, though that could just be a trick of the light. Sandals with strings that tie up to his knees cover his feet. He looks nice, too. Annie tries to tell him, but the words get stuck in her throat.

Irving asks Annie to twirl, and she does, which makes Mena shriek again. Mags looks like she’s about to cry.

“Beautiful,” she says. Annie almost screams. It’s the first word she’s ever heard Mags say. She looks to Finnick, who knows the old woman, hoping he’ll have some sort of explanation.

Finnick, however, apparently didn’t even hear Mags. He’s staring at Annie with the same expression she had in the mirror. He’s confused and perplexed, but on the whole mesmerized. Then he meets her gaze, and she knows. He sees right through her. He knows she doesn’t belong here, in this costume, in the Games at all. He looks away quickly.

“Alright, now, everyone in the elevator!” Mena sings. “Let’s show Panem how gorgeous you both are!” Sebastian makes a face at the word “gorgeous.”

When they all pile in the elevator, Annie somehow ends up next to Finnick.

“You look pretty ridiculous, Cresta,” he whispers to her.

“I still look better than you, though,” she whispers back. He lets out a quick laugh.

“Tell me, were you born funny, or is that what you learned instead of combat training?”

She shrugs. “Guess I didn’t have a very good sparring instructor.”

They look at each other and smile. Annie feels warmth begin to pool in her stomach. Like they’re back in 4, swimming together. Then the elevator dings and the doors open to the staging area for the opening ceremonies, and Finnick’s mask is back on.

The staging area is vast and intimidating. This is the first time she’s seen the other tributes in person. As unimpressive as they were onscreen, she still finds it overwhelming. Pretty soon all of them except one will be dead. She shudders at that thought and allows Mags to lead her over to the District 4 carriage. Mena waves a quick goodbye and heads out to the audience.

Annie recognizes the girl from 3 at the carriage in front of her. She’s tall, not particularly well-muscled, but definitely graceful. Her costume is ridiculous, a long black dress covered in gold lightning bolts and an actual giant lightbulb that glows on her head, but she is undeniably attractive. Probably smart, too, the tributes from 3 usually are. Annie makes a mental note to try to get her as an ally, no matter what Finnick says.

Stella walks right up to Annie and does a few last minute adjustments. Smooth out the little fold in the tail. Make sure her hair curls in the right direction. Only the little things. Then she kisses Annie on each cheek and stands back. Finnick takes her hand and helps her up into the carriage.

“You know, Mags is right,” he says. She’s barely even paying attention as she tries to stand up straight. He’s still holding her hand.

“About what?” she asks.

“You look beautiful, Cresta,” he says, so softly she almost doesn’t hear him. She snaps her head down to look at him, expecting to see a smirk or hear his punchline. He’s smiling, but softly. His features suggest honesty, even humbleness. The warmth starts spreading from Annie’s stomach again. Her face suddenly feels hot.

Then the anthem starts playing, the carriage starts moving, and Finnick drops her hand as he steps back to the sidelines. She wants to look back at him, but forces herself to face forward as the horses pull her into the brightly lit stadium.

The crowd at the reaping yesterday was laughably small compared to the one that fills the space around her now. District 4 is a small dinner party with a few friends. This is like trying to house all of Panem in her tiny apartment back home. There’s a collective gasp when the light hits her skin, and then everyone goes insane. Stella did an amazing job. If there’s anything the Capitol citizens like, it’s colors. Well, and jewels. And shiny things that catch their eyes. And, right now, Annie is all of those things to them. She smiles widely and blows some kisses into the crowd.

“What did Finnick want?” Sebastian asks from somewhere next to her. She forgot about him for a moment. He’s also smiling widely and waving to the crowd.

“Just to remind me to be loveable and to do something more than wave,” she lies, blowing a few more kisses.

“I don’t see why he had to remind you,” Sebastian says. “In that outfit? You’re a hit, Annie. Just look at the crowd. You could probably stop everything you’re doing right now and just stand here and they’d still love you.”

This is probably true. As the carriages all stop and President Snow gives his speech about the Hunger Games, she becomes aware of the colors dancing off her skin, the eyes in the crowd that never even leave her.

Suddenly, the lights are too hot. The costume is too tight, too revealing. The whole stadium is distorted into waves. She can feel every bit of makeup on her skin. She wants to scratch it all off, but knows she can’t. She forces a deep breath into her lungs, but it doesn’t want to stick. She grabs Sebastian’s hand when the speech ends and the carriages start back to the staging area.

“Are you okay?” he whispers.

“No,” she whispers back. But what’s wrong? She was fine a moment ago. A crease forms between his eyebrows, but he’s still putting on his show for the crowd.

“Smile. Wave,” he whispers.

She still can’t breathe properly, but she forces her lips into her umpteenth fake smile. Her hand is somehow in the air, moving back and forth to the appreciative Capitol citizens, though her other one won’t let go of Sebastian. She can almost feel Finnick shaking his head from here. So much for her vicious killer image.

She’s still shaking when the carriages make their loop back to the staging area, so Sebastian helps her climb down. Finnick and Mags are already there. His hands are on her arms, but gently, and he isn’t even yelling. He’s frantic, though, but in a concerned way. Mags stands next to Annie and throws her arms around her shoulders.

“Are you okay?” Finnick asks. “You looked like you were about to pass out right on the carriage.”

“I’m fine,” Annie tells him. He looks at her pointedly, like he knows she’s lying. “Okay, I’m not. I don’t know what happened.”

He moves to her unoccupied side, slides his arm around her shoulders, and pulls her into him. She doesn’t know why, but her breathing suddenly regulates. Mags stays close, but drops her arms to her own sides. The three of them move as a sort of unit. She barely even has to walk on her own because Finnick steers her back to the elevators, where Mena, Sebastian, and the stylists join them.

On the way back to their floor, Mena prattles about how amazing they both looked. Apparently the Capitol citizens didn’t really notice when Annie stopped breathing, which both disturbs and comforts her. Finnick just holds her while she observes her shaking hands.

When they get to the floor, they watch the opening ceremonies. Nothing too eventful happens, though. Stella and Irving comment on everyone else’s horrible costumes. Annie’s freak out isn’t even incredibly obvious. Then the recap ends, and the stylists leave with Mena. Mags decides to go to bed early. She says goodnight to both Finnick and Annie with a kiss on the cheek before hugging Sebastian tightly around the middle. Finnick decides to stay in the living room for awhile, but Sebastian and Annie both need showers.

“Goodnight, Annie,” he says, pulling her into one of his rib-cracking hugs.

Once she’s down the hall and in her room, she locks the door and unceremoniously peels every last bit of her costume off. It’s now in a crumpled mess on the floor, but she doesn’t care. She jumps in the shower and scrubs until every last bit of makeup is washed down the drain. Only her nail polish stays on. Once she’s clean, she opts to towel dry instead of using the drying machine. She pulls on some simple leggings and a plain blue shirt and climbs into bed with wet hair.

After a few minutes of tossing and turning, she realizes she can’t get to sleep. Every time she closes her eyes, she sees the crowd, the lights, her own inhuman skin. Finally, she sits up. There’s zero chance of her sleeping just yet. She’s too wound up. Maybe Finnick is still in the living room. He calmed her down before.

Annie slides out of bed and down the hall. Luckily, she was right. The first thing she sees is Finnick, sitting on the couch, tying a long, thin rope into a delicate knot.

“Finnick?” she asks. He jumps and immediately drops the rope.

“Hey, Cresta,” he says without turning around.

She walks around the couch and settles down next to him.

“Is this okay?” she asks.

“Oh, yeah,” he says, turning to her. “Of course.”

They don’t speak for a few minutes, even though there’s something clearly wrong with both of them.

“What’s with the rope?” When she speaks, it’s barely above a whisper. There’s no judgment in her voice, only curiosity.

“Nervous habit,” he says. Then, after a moment, “Can’t sleep?”

“No.”

“I can’t either.” He looks at her. “Are you okay? I mean, from earlier.”

“No,” she admits, even though she does feel a lot better. “I hate it here. I saw all those people looking at me, and I felt like an alien, and I haven’t even felt like myself since the morning before the reaping, and everyone’s just buttering me up to die. Including you.”

He goes back to tying his knot at her last two words.

“You don’t belong here, Cresta,” he says, pulling the rope straight and starting another knot.

“You could even say I’m a fish out of water,” she offers. “Or, I guess, a mermaid out of water, if you want to get technical.”

“Is this really the time for jokes?” he asks, looking at her.

“No,” she says without smiling. “But it’s the only thing getting me through this.” She thinks about earlier, when he refused to let go of her until they were back on the floor and he was convinced she had calmed down. “That and you,” she admits.

His cheeks burn red and he goes back to his knot.

“I’ve been a jerk to you,” he says after a few minutes. “I thought it would toughen you up or something. I didn’t even bother to ask what you need from me. I’ve been a pretty bad mentor.”

“Terrible,” she agrees. “You should be fired.”

“Or executed.”

“At least.”

He laughs and drops his knot on the ground, lays his hands over his crossed legs, and looks into Annie’s eyes.

“What do you need from me?” he asks.

She shrugs. “I don’t know. Support? Advice on how to stay alive without killing anyone?”

“Cresta,” he says, his face grave. “I don’t know how possible that is. You don’t know how it is in the arena. I thought I could get through it without killing a lot of people. But then everyone seemed to think I was a threat. And Mags was back home, and she’s pretty dependent on me. So I did what I had to.”

“I just don’t want to kill anyone, Finnick.”

Another long silence. Annie can tell he wants to pick up his rope and keep tying knots, but he doesn’t. Instead he picks at the hem of his pants.

“I’m not sure I can help with that,” he says after a long time. “I’m not a very good person, Cresta.”

It occurs to her that she’s been wrong about Finnick the entire time. In this moment, Annie can see right down to his core. She can see the sad, funny, delicate, nervous, gentle person he is. He tries to hide all of that by being cocky and self-involved, but everything he really is shines through. She leans forward and, lightly, kisses his cheek.

“Yes, you are,” she tells him.

She’s down the hall and in her room before he can do anything more than brush his fingers across the spot where her lips were.


	4. Porcelain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annie begins training, makes a potential friend, and has an unwanted revelation about her relationship with Finnick.

Annie’s awake the next morning before Mena can come in and do her human alarm clock act. This is a good sign. She can’t rely on Mena forever, especially since she’ll be in the arena in a few days. If she doesn’t get in the habit of waking herself up now, she’ll probably sleep through the Games.

She actually laughs at that thought. That would be quite the strategy. She could find some tall tree, make sure the branches hid her, and then sleep until everyone else is dead. No one would even see it coming. But then the image of Sebastian, dead on the ground, kills all the amusement in this fantasy. She’s barely spoken to him so far, but he’s been nothing but nice. He did hold her hand when she was freaking out on the carriage. And those giant hugs are friendly, even if they are a little painful. She imagines his toothy smile wiped from his face, his soft brown eyes staring, open and vacant, at nothing.

The arena doesn’t seem even remotely funny anymore.

She shudders and gets out of bed. Training starts today. Which means she needs to focus on making allies and learning skills. She haphazardly pulls her long, dark hair into a ponytail. Bits of her hair stick out at random, but she ignores them.

Sometime while she was sleeping, someone came in to clean her room. She only notices because her costume from last night is now gone. There’s also a simple black uniform hanging from her mirror with the number 4 printed on it. A pair of matching running shoes sits under it.

She sighs, strips off the clothes she slept in, and pulls on this new outfit. It’s so comfortable she can hardly believe it’s even there. The shoes have soft soles and good traction. She tries a few stretches to test everything out. It all fits and moves like a dream. She wonders if Stella had any hand in making these clothes.

There’s a knock on her door, and Mena comes in before Annie can yell that she’s already awake.

“Oh, good, you’re up!” Mena sings. Today her hair is black, long, and straight, but the rest of her outfit, including her makeup, is a pale lavender. “Come get some food before training starts!”

Annie’s stomach grumbles. She leaves her bed unmade and follows Mena down the hall to the main room, where the familiar smell of fish fills the air. Annie makes a small, eager noise. As she approaches the table, already arranging a plate in her head, Mags pats the seat next to her. This tradition Annie likes. She sits down and piles her plate with eggs and salmon filets and bread.

Glancing around the oddly quiet table, she notices the guys aren’t out yet, which strikes Annie as odd. Maybe not for Finnick, he was still awake when she went to bed last night, and he can technically sleep as long as he wants to today. But Sebastian, who’s so eager for the Games, and wants to show how good he is, should be awake by now. Mena seems to read her mind, because she clicks down the boys’ hall in teetering heels. It’s a miracle Mena hasn’t killed herself on those yet. Annie could barely walk in heels half that height.

She tries to wait for the guys, but another noise from her stomach tells her that’ll be impossible. Especially when she can’t remember the last time she had salmon. She starts by taking just a few bites, while Mags puts some food on her plate, but that soon turns into a whole strip of fish and half her eggs before Mena comes back with Sebastian.

“Good morning,” he says cheerfully. Mags smiles widely at him. Annie makes a noise that’s supposed to be “hello,” but the word gets stuck behind a mouthful of bread. Sebastian is also already in his uniform, which matches hers. He’s apparently starving as well, because he doesn’t say another word as he sits in the closest chair and starts shoveling food onto the plate in front of him.

Being from District 4, Annie knows neither of them ever went hungry. There was always enough food there. Every few years, they’d experience a shortage, but her dad would always take her fishing to make up for it. In her entire life, Annie had gone to bed hungry maybe twice. But all their food was very bland. Some grain portion to make gruel or bread, which they flavor with seaweed. Some fish, cooked with oil. That’s all they really need. She’s never heard a complaint about the plain food, though. It’s strange to her that now all she and Sebastian can do is eat like they’ve been starved. She can’t imagine how the kids from other districts must be reacting to all this rich food.

She finishes her second filet and starts on the rest of her eggs when Finnick comes out of his room, rubbing his eyes, and sits on Annie’s other side.

“Late night?” she asks. He shoots her a look.

“Good morning to you, too, Cresta,” he says, nudging her with his elbow. He pours himself a cup of a strong-smelling brown liquid that he adds milk and three sugar cubes to.

“What is that?” she asks him, her mouth filled with eggs.

“Coffee,” he replies, taking a long sip. “Want to try it?”

He offers the cup to her. She sets down her plate and takes it from him. He watches her as she takes a sip and immediately spits it back into the mug. It’s overbearingly sweet, and on top of that, she can still taste the bitterness. Every head in the room snaps to her. Mena smiles, but rolls her eyes. Mags, after seeing that Annie is okay, goes back to her meal. Sebastian laughs so hard he starts coughing.

“It’s awful,” she exclaims. “I don’t know how you can stand something that sweet.”

Finnick takes his cup back from her and stares into it.

“Luckily, I don’t have that problem with you,” he says, a small smile curling at his lips as he pours himself another cup of coffee.

They all finish their meals in silence. Finnick seems to be holding back a laugh, but Annie’s a little ashamed. It seems unlikely that she’ll ever stop making herself look like an idiot in front of Finnick. But why does she care about that?

A little after nine, Mena claps her hands twice.

“It’s time to go!” she says, and begins to usher Sebastian and Annie, who both still have food in their mouths, onto the elevator. Finnick turns in his chair to yell final advice over his shoulder.

“Remember to make friends with One and Two,” he calls. “Learn something new today. That means a weapon, Cresta.”

She waves without turning around to let him know she heard him. Then they’re on the elevator, and Mena tells them which button to press. Annie thought she’d accompany them down, but they’re Career tributes. They can’t have their escort accompany them. Just before the doors close, Annie locks eyes with Finnick. He gives her a weak smile before the metal gates separate them.

“Are you nervous?” Sebastian asks. The entire training center grows before them as the elevator pulls them down.

“A little. You?” She notices her hands are shaking and rubs them together.

He shrugs.

“A little. What do you think you’ll learn today?”

“I don’t know. I guess I’ll wait and see what’s down there.”

He nods and they don’t talk for awhile as they glide further and further down.

“Finnick’s right, you know,” he says. “You should get good at a weapon.”

“I don’t want to kill anyone, though,” she admits.

“I don’t think any of us want to kill anyone.”

She looks at Sebastian. He’s smiling a little, but his eyes are heavy. He pulls off the moronic puppy dog athlete thing really well, but Annie thinks that maybe she misjudged him. Maybe he’s also wearing a mask, only his is successful. She returns his small smile.

“Thank you,” she suddenly blurts.

“For what?” he asks, taken aback.

“The carriage. Last night. Helping me stay steady when I couldn’t breathe.”

He actually laughs.

“Oh, that. What are district partners for?”

The words are barely out of his mouth when the elevator stops and the doors slide open. Annie crosses her arms to hide her still shaking hands.

The entire room is filled with large, soft pads, weapons of all kinds, various stations covered with paints and ropes and plants. There’s a large panel set high in the wall on one side where a large group of people sit, surrounded by food and talking to each other. The Gamemakers. Annie knows they check on the tributes’ progress, but she didn’t realize they’d be there from the beginning. She forces her eyes away from them to take in the rest of the room.

She and Sebastian are some of the first people there. The District 5 tributes are standing nervously near the station marked EDIBLE PLANTS. Neither of them looks at the other. Districts 10 and 12 are also there, standing in the middle looking lost. And District 2 is there, stretching out on the pads. They’re both huge. The girl is at least twice Annie’s size, and probably a full six inches taller. They both have dark hair and huge muscles. A shudder goes down Annie’s spine as the boy spins a spear almost expertly in his hands. Then the girl notices her and Sebastian, taps the boy’s shoulder, and they both walk over to the elevator.

“I’m Titus,” the boy says, holding out his hand. Sebastian shakes it, heartily.

“Romana,” the girl says, giving a curt nod. Annie’s glad she doesn’t offer her hand. Romana could probably crush her skull between her fingers with no problem. “You’re the mermaid girl, right? You looked great last night. I was basically just a giant rock. What the hell is that? If I killed you right now, do you think they’d let me have your stylist?”

Annie feels all the color drain from her face. Titus laughs.

“She’s kidding,” he explains.

“Obviously,” Romana says. “I have to save that for the arena.”

Annie makes a mental note to kill Finnick when she gets back to the floor for telling her to align herself with these people.

All at once, the rest of the tributes arrive. When District 1 shows up, they immediately join their little group of Careers and introduce themselves. The boy is about 16, tall, muscular, the usual. His name is Ivory. The girl is blonde and shockingly small for District 1. Her name is Holiday. The rest of the tributes mostly stick to their district partners and stay quiet. Then the head trainer steps forward, gives them a quick rundown of all the stations, and leaves them to their own devices.

“I’ll be at the sword station,” Holiday announces. She sounds bored. Sebastian decides to join her. Titus, Romana, and Ivory all go to archery, leaving Annie alone to explore the room. She casts her eyes around and sees the girl from District 3, sitting alone at the knot station. Perfect.

“I’m Annie,” she announces, sitting next to the girl and picking up a length of rope. She looks Annie up and down curiously. It’s understandable. She’s technically supposed to be a Career.

“I’m Hera,” the girl finally replies as her fingers fumble over a complicated knot.

“Do you want help?” Annie asks. She shows Hera how to tie the knot using her own rope.

“Thanks,” Hera says, still somewhat weary.

The instructor guides them through a few more knots, most of them fairly complicated. Annie gets them all down the first time without looking.

“How are you so good at these?” Hera asks with a shaky laugh.

Annie smiles. She’s been tying knots since birth, basically. Her father works out on the fishing boats, and he would always bring rope home and show her how to tie it. Once, when she was about eight, he brought her out on the boat with him, and she tied knots and watched the water all day.

School was cancelled that day. Or maybe she just didn’t want to go, she can’t exactly remember. She kept running around the boat and getting tangled in the net. Some of the other fishermen were getting fed up, but kept their cool, because she was only a child. Her father finally sat her down and put a rope in her hands. He told her to practice her knots, then smiled, ruffled her hair, and kissed her on the forehead.

Her stomach aches at the memory. She last saw her dad a couple days ago, not even, but it feels like it’s been months. She wishes he were here now. Finnick somehow helps with the growing ache that started in her heart when she volunteered for Twenny, that has now spread to every inch of her body. But she knows her dad would help with that even more. He’d pull her into his arms and say only a few words, and she’d be fine. That’s what happened whenever the other kids would beat her up because they knew she wouldn’t fight back, at least.

Hera’s questioning face breaks her train of thought, but she didn’t hear what she said.

“What?” she asks.

“I asked if you wanted to go to the edible plants station,” Hera says, sweeping her long, dark hair behind her shoulder.

Annie glances over to the other Careers, her supposed allies. Holiday is throwing axes into bullseyes. The rest are moving to the knives. Sebastian catches her eye and waves her over. She should join them. Finnick said to learn a weapon. Finnick said to team up with 1 and 2. But her gut is telling her that Hera is better, safer.

Stay safe. That’s what her dad told her when they said goodbye.

She shakes her head to clear her mind and looks back at Hera. The girl was appropriately named. She towers over Annie. With her shiny hair and olive skin, she looks like she could be a goddess.

“Edible plants sounds good,” Annie replies. Then, thinking of Finnick, she adds, “But after let’s try archery.”

Hera nods and, together, they work through both stations before lunch. Annie decides she likes Hera. She knows a lot about the edible plants, which is odd, considering she’s from District 3.

“How are you doing this?” Annie asks when Hera successfully completes the entire chart of berries and leaves.

“I made it my business to learn some survival basics in case I was reaped,” she replies in a low voice, making sure the instructor and other tributes can’t hear her.

“So you’re also a Career?” Annie asks, marking another plant on her own chart.

“That one’s not edible,” Hera says, correcting her. Annie swears and fixes it. “And I wouldn’t say I’m a Career. I wouldn’t say I came with an advantage. I only taught myself things that would keep me alive. Nothing that would kill another person.”

“Why’s that?”

“So no one could accuse me of being a Career,” she replies, eyebrows raised to Annie. She feels her face drain of its warmth. It’s true, she got prior training in combat and weapons, but who knows how much of it stuck. Still, it’s not a good idea to broadcast how unprepared and unwilling to kill she is.

“Point taken,” she murmurs.

Hera helps her finish her chart and they move on to archery, which it turns out Annie is pretty good at. All of her arrows at least hit the little circle in the dummy’s chest. Hera starts out horrible. Her first three arrows miss entirely, but after that she manages to hit an arm or a leg or somewhere in the torso. Her last arrow flies right into the dummy’s head.

“Did you see that?” she asks, dumbfounded. “Kill shot!”

Annie half-heartedly cheers, but Hera doesn’t even seem to notice. She retrieves her arrow, and then the head trainer calls out that it’s lunchtime.

They all file into a large room filled with tables. The far wall is laid out with food in trays so they can serve themselves. Annie smells fish and her stomach aches for her father again.

“Want to sit with us?” Hera asks. “Leeri can get annoying, but he’s alright.”

She points to a table where the boy from 3 sits. He’s tiny and has bright red hair and pale skin. He must be 13 at the oldest.

Across the room, Annie sees Sebastian going through the food line.

“I should eat with my district partner or my mentor might eat me,” Annie says.

“Isn’t your mentor Finnick Odair?” Hera asks, blushing a little, like she’s been waiting for her to bring it up.

“Yes. Why?”

“You want to trade?” she asks, laughing. “I don’t think I’d complain if he ate me.”

Annie’s cheeks are suddenly on fire.

“I’ll see you after lunch, okay?” she says, and heads over to the food line before Hera can say anything else about Finnick.

She picks up a plate and tries to focus on what food she’s putting on it, but all she can see is the woman jumping out of the crowd to kiss Finnick when they first got to the Capitol, and then how defeated he looked when they were away from the public. He’d probably be upset by Hera’s comment. That must be why it’s affecting Annie so much. She shakes her head and turns around to find Sebastian, who’s sitting in the middle of the room with 1 and 2. She takes a deep breath and walks over to them.

“Where were you all morning?” Romana asks when Annie puts her plate down and slides onto the seat.

“Training,” she says, shrugging. “I thought you knew that.”

What is she doing? Why can’t she control the things she says? She’s beginning to panic, but Holiday laughs. Romana shoots her a look.

“What? She’s funny,” Holiday says. Romana looks back to Annie.

“I know we’re training. Which stations? We all thought you’d learn weapons with us all day.” Everyone looks at her, except for Sebastian, who is suddenly very interested in his pasta.

“I was learning survival skills,” Annie says. “I thought one of us should. I still have time to learn weapons, but I wanted to be sure I could get us food.”

That answer came from nowhere, but they seem satisfied by it, because they all go back to eating. The truth is she doesn’t want to be anywhere near them. They’re huge and bloodthirsty and unpleasant. But Finnick said to ally with them. Getting along with monsters is what’s going to keep her alive. She glances over at Hera as she picks at the swordfish on her plate. Hera would be a much better ally. She’s smart, she’s strong, she’s just going to get better and better with weapons, she doesn’t make Annie fear for her life.

Her dad told her to stay safe. Finnick said to get friendly with 1 and 2. Even though his suggestion feels wrong, listening to him doesn’t. He’s her mentor. He’s lived through the Games. Anything he says will probably be pretty sound advice on how to keep living.

She swallows the mouthful of fish and rice she’s been chewing for much too long and keeps eating, only half-listening to Titus prattle on about sword technique until lunch is over, when they’re all herded back into the training room. For a moment, Annie’s worried she’ll have to stick with the Career group for the rest of the day, but they walk over to the archery station. She tells the group she spent part of the morning there, and quickly walks over to the knife station, where Hera is standing.

Knives are easier than arrows. Annie misses the first few, but then hits the center of the target every time. There. That should make Finnick happy. Hera struggles with the knives, but still manages to stick a couple in the dummies. When they’re done, they move on to snares. After knots, snares are simple. They both master all of them quickly, and then it’s time to go.

“See you tomorrow?” Hera asks.

Annie nods and then runs to join Sebastian on the elevator. They have to share with District 5, who both stay silent the whole time and stare out the back wall at the expansive courtyard that cuts through the middle of the training center.

“How was your day?” Sebastian asks. Annie expected him to be a little mad that she ditched him, but his tone is pleasant. The District 5 tributes both jump when he speaks.

“It was good. I learned a lot.” She shrugs.

“Do you mind if I join you tomorrow?” he asks. She’s taken aback by the question.

“Of course not. What are district partners for?”

The elevator stops just then and the door slides open at their floor. Annie swears the District 5 tributes let out deep breaths when she and Sebastian leave. They must have seen her with the knives, or him with whatever weapons he learned today, or maybe both. Couple that with their status as Careers, and it’s easy for her to see why they’d be nervous.

Finnick and Mags are waiting for them in their living room. Mena is not.

“Where’s Mena?” Annie asks.

“She’s checking on dinner or shopping or something,” Finnick answers, frustration ringing clear in his voice. “I can only listen to Capitol citizens for so long.”

She doesn’t know what he did today, but whatever it was put him in a bad mood. She and Sebastian exchange a look but don’t say anything.

“I learned knives today,” Annie says, quietly, hoping to cheer him up. He does perk up a bit.

“You listened to me?” he asks. She nods.

“We also made friends with One and Two,” Sebastian offers. “Well, I did at least.” Annie elbows him to shut him up, but it’s too late.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Finnick asks, looking between them both.

“Annie trained with the girl from Three all day.”

“Her name is Hera,” Annie snaps. “And maybe I would’ve spent more time with you all if Romana hadn’t started the day by threatening to kill me.”

“So you only half listened to me,” Finnick says.

“No, I listened. I ate lunch with them. I was just unnerved by the death threat.”

“They’re trained killers, Cresta. What did you want? A hug?”

“No!” When did she start shouting? “But it’s not unreasonable for me to be upset when I wake up to a death threat!”

At this point, Sebastian has fallen silent. Mags steps forward and places a hand on Finnick’s shoulder in an attempt to calm him down. He flinches before waving her away and taking a step closer to Annie.

“I get that you don’t want to be here,” he says as calmly as he can. “I don’t either. I wish there was a way for us to be swimming back home. I would make that happen in a heartbeat. That said, you signed up for this, Cresta. You volunteered. I want to help you stay alive, and I want to help you do it your way. But you have to meet me halfway. One and Two are hard to get along with, but that’s how you survive in the arena. Got it?”

“Yes,” she says. The word almost sticks in her throat and comes out much quieter than she intended.

“Good,” he says. “What all did you learn today?”

“Snares,” she begins, shakily. “Knives, archery, edible plants, and knots.”

He smirks.

“You don’t know knots, Cresta?”

“I wanted a refresher.”

Finnick shakes his head and turns to Sebastian.

“How about you?”

“Swords, knives, archery,” Sebastian replies.

Finnick nods.

“Alright, then. And you’re getting along with One and Two?” he asks.

“As much as I can with them,” Sebastian mutters. Annie almost smiles at him. She thought he was going to be another super Career when he was reaped, but he’s turning out to be an actual human being. If she’s not careful, Annie may end up being his friend. Her stomach sinks at that thought.

“Good,” Finnick says. He starts down the hall to his room. “I need a shower before dinner.”

“What’s wrong with him today?” Sebastian asks as soon as they hear his door slide shut behind him. Mags stares sadly towards his room.

“I don’t know,” Annie says. He was nothing but pleasant this morning. Almost like the morning of the reaping. She chews the inside of her lip carefully. “He seems upset, though.”

Some impulse pushes her forward. Maybe if she talks to him, he’ll feel better. Maybe she can comfort him like he comforted her. But Mags grabs her arm before she can go more than a few steps and shakes her head.

“Long day,” she says softly. Annie didn’t notice last night, but Mags’ voice is strained, like there’s something actually wrong with it. It’s widely assumed in District 4 that she doesn’t speak by choice, or due to trauma from her Games. Some kids made up wild stories about how she lost a bet or fought off a giant squid, but Annie never believed them.

Mags places a hand on Annie’s shoulder, and her other one on Sebastian’s, and squeezes. Annie can’t help but smile. She’s telling them she’s proud of them. Why she can’t say it out loud, Annie doesn’t know. She decides not to press her too much, though. Maybe if she comes home, then she’ll ask.

Then her stomach sinks again. If she comes home. She’d almost forgotten about the Games. It’s the “if” that trips her up, and her hands begin to shake. She quietly excuses herself and goes down to her own room, even though her legs and stomach want her to go to Finnick’s, despite Mags’ warning.

Mood swings or no, he would know what to say. Or, at the very least, he would help calm her down.

She flops onto her bed and pulls a pillow over her face. So far, she’s managed to avoid these sorts of thoughts. While her imminent death has been looming over her, she hasn’t put a lot of thought into the arena. Or the other tributes. Or how to walk out of there alive.

This morning, the training room seemed packed to her. People were all over the place, learning the same skills she was. Out of all of them, only one can live. She presses the pillow down and screams into it.

Finnick’s right. She needs to stop doing what feels safe, because it’s just going to get her killed faster. After meeting the other Careers, she feels even less confident in her odds of winning, but she might be able to make it pretty far. She could still show everyone, her parents, the country, the kids who beat her up in school, that she’s not some porcelain doll that can shatter at any moment.

In a few days, or weeks, she could even go home. She could see the ocean again, move in next to Finnick and Mags, learn how to make jewelry, and never have to worry about herself or her parents ever again. They had enough food now, but, if she won, they could have plenty. And more variety. Maybe they could recreate some of the Capitol meals. She could go swimming every day, with Finnick, at the private beach in the Victors’ Village. Her heart pounds a little faster at that thought.

Of course, she wouldn’t be the same if she won. She’d have to split herself down the middle. Capitol Annie, and home Annie. What everyone wants to see, and who she really is. If she won, though, who she really is would be entirely different. She’s seen it in the faces of the victors when they walk around 4, or the ones who visit on their victory tour. The smiles look natural, but feel forced. It’s not that hard to imagine why. Winning means watching 23 other people die before they have the chance to kill you, even killing some of them yourself.

It pains Annie just to watch it every year. It must be hell to actually experience. In just a few days, she’ll find that out.

She flips onto her side and pulls the pillow into her chest, wrapping her arms around it. The image of Finnick stabbing a boy in the ribs returns to her. She tries to put herself in his place, tries to imagine and feel what it’s like to shove a blade into someone’s chest and feel their last breath. Their last heartbeat. The last flicker of their eyes to yours just before they die. Acid crawls up her esophagus, making her choke. She can’t do it. She can’t kill anyone, even if they’re trying to kill her. She folds her arms tighter around herself to steady her hands.

It probably won’t come down to that. She’ll probably die quickly. Her body will be returned to her parents in a simple wooden box. The funeral will be small, just her parents, probably Finnick and Mags, maybe even Sebastian if he wins. Then they’ll forget her and move on. She’ll just be another lost tribute, another fallen pawn. No different from any of the others.

Before she can fully embrace her death, though, there’s a knock at her door. She gets off her bed, walks over, and presses the button to slide the weird strip of metal open. Doors should be made of wood. Sebastian tells her that dinner is ready, and she walks down to the main room with him.

The whole meal is a mixed bag. Sebastian eats even faster than normal. Annie doesn’t think he’s even tasting his food. When he finishes, he stares blankly at his empty plate and chews his bottom lip. Neither he or Annie say much of anything. Mena, though, is tittering to Mags, who’s politely nodding along, about how the Capitol is just buzzing about Annie. Her entrance at the opening ceremonies made quite the splash, no pun intended, of course, and sponsors are already trying to line up for her.

Annie’s only half listening, though, because Finnick is sitting next to her and he’s almost back to normal. There’s an underlying current of pain or something dark, but he makes small jokes about himself and nudges Annie with his elbow when she doesn’t laugh. He knows something’s wrong, and he’s trying to make her feel better. Her heart beats faster again, like it did when she imagined living next to him in the Victors’ Village. By the end of the meal, she manages to honestly laugh.

When dinner is done, everyone is full and sleepy, so they all go immediately back to their rooms after a quick goodnight from Mena.

“You’re already a hit,” she tells Annie, smoothing down her hair. Her mother used to do the same thing whenever Annie made her proud. Mena dots a kiss to her forehead and then gets back on the elevator and leaves.

Everyone else mumbles goodnight to each other, and then Annie is gratefully back in her bed. She can almost pretend she never left, except for the leftover warmth in her limbs from being around Finnick all night. With a yawn, she turns over and closes her eyes.

But she can’t sleep.

Her body is exhausted. The muscles in her arms are tired from throwing knives and pulling bows earlier. Her eyelids droop. She tries to open them, but they don’t want to move.

Her mind, though, is buzzing. She’s imagining the arena. When the Games begin, she’ll have to fight 23 other people for supplies and safety and her own life. Or maybe she’ll run off on her own and starve to death. Though, if Mena’s right and people are lining up to sponsor her, then food won’t be a problem. That’s not a horrible idea, really. Run off and hide somewhere and let food come to her in silver parachutes. She makes a mental note to visit the camouflage station tomorrow.

Although, the sponsors probably won’t like it very much if she stays completely out of the action. And if she did win by hiding, that probably wouldn’t go over well back home. She’s going to have to at least fight.

Something squeezes around her stomach and lungs and forces her to her feet. She needs to be in the water right now, but there is no water. She needs to be outside. There’s a balcony at the far end of the guys’ hall that she noticed earlier. Air will never be better than feeling water stream through her hair and over her arms, but it’s better than nothing.

She practically jumps out of bed and moves quietly through the now dark floor. The sliding glass doors that lead outside are directly ahead. She can almost taste the air when a noise makes her stop. It sounds like something breaking, or wood splintering, and it’s coming from Finnick’s room. Her chest still feels tight, but she can wait. Whatever he’s doing, it sounds bad, and she wants to make sure he’s not hurt. Her heart starts beating faster as she knocks.

Whatever the noise is, it stops. After a long pause, his door slides open. Finnick is wearing a plain t-shirt over his pajamas, which feels weird to her. Usually he wears a nice shirt or no shirt at all. He seems both relieved and anxious to see her. His eyes are ringed in red.

“Sorry, Cresta, I’m closed for the day,” he says with a small smile.

“Not why I’m here,” she says, folding her arms over her chest.

“Then what’s wrong?” he asks.

“I could ask you the same question.”

Neither of them speaks for a long moment. They only look at each other. His eyebrows are slightly furrowed, like he doesn’t know what she’s talking about, but he’s also blocking as much of the doorway as possible with his body so she can’t see inside. She peers under his arm, though, and gasps when she sees the small pile of destroyed furniture at the far end of his room.

She points to the balcony. Reluctantly, he nods and follows her outside, where they’re greeted by a rush of cold city air. It smells like metal and poison and bad weather. She misses the salt-scented air back home. The balcony itself has a few chairs lined close to the wall. Annie sits on the edge of one. Finnick leans against the railing that separates them from a four-story drop to the pavement.

“Why can’t you sleep?” he asks, trying to be nonchalant.

“Why do you think?” she says, shakily.

He nods.

“You’re right, stupid question.”

He turns around so he’s facing the city, or as much as they can see. The top floor could probably see the entire city. At least their block is nice. She stands and walks over to lean next to him.

“Finnick, why did you break all the furniture in your room?” she asks.

To her surprise, he actually laughs.

“Because it doesn’t matter. I’m stuck here forever. Who cares about a table?”

She wishes he would look at her. Something is hurting him, and she doesn’t know what it is, and it’s frustrating her that she can’t help him. Why is it frustrating her?

“I know you hate being a mentor,” she says quietly. “I know you hate coming here and watching people you know die, and—“

“No,” he interrupts. “No, that’s not the full reason. I hate sending people to their deaths, sure, but I don’t know any of them. Five years of mentoring, and you’re the only important person I’ve had to prepare for the arena.” His eyes quickly find hers and then flit away to the street below them.

Her throat is suddenly bone dry.

“Then why do you hate coming here?” Her voice is too constricted, too soft, and too scratchy, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He takes a deep breath but otherwise doesn’t move.

“The truth? My life has become a living, endless hell ever since I won.” He speaks slowly, making sure every word is the right one. Her stomach sinks. So she was right. Winning would mean nightmares and guilt and other horrors she can’t imagine. He buries his face in his hands. “Do yourself a favor, Cresta. Lose. Don’t come home.” His voice breaks on the last word. Something between rage and horrible pain seeps cuts through her, forcing tears into her eyes.

Betrayal. This feeling is betrayal.

“You want me to die.” It’s not a question.

“No.” He still won’t look at her. She wants to scream at him for it, but she doesn’t. “No, I meant what I said earlier. If there was a way to stop everything now and go home, I would do it. But dying in the arena would’ve been better, would’ve been easier….”

All her anger dissolves inside her, leaving only pain and forcing out a few more tears. He wasn’t talking about her. He hadn’t been talking about her in the first place. She can tell he’s not fully telling the truth, but, for now, she doesn’t really care.

Cautiously, she closes the few feet between them and slips her arms around his shoulders. She’s never seen a victor like this, least of all Finnick, who was always happy and sweet, or, more recently, angry and a little scary. He doesn’t flinch when she touches him, but he does, finally, turn his head to meet her gaze. He’s also crying. At least she’s not alone.

“If it helps….” She stops. What would be the best way to phrase this? Now that he’s staring at her, she wishes he wouldn’t. “I, for one… I’m glad you made it out.” A sudden burst of courage makes her add, “I’m glad you’re alive, Finnick.”

A flicker of something goes through his eyes. He tries to smile, but apparently can’t.

“Why?” he asks, and she tightens her arms around him. “If I died, we never would’ve met. Your life would be the same as it was. You’d have nothing to miss.”

She winces at that and rests her head on his shoulder.

“I had no friends before you,” she admits. “The kids at school thought I was weak because I hated combat training. They beat me up, and called me names, even put me in the hospital once. So if you think I’d be better off without you--”

She means to keep talking. But at that moment the dam inside her breaks, and she has to pull away from him and bury her face in her arms as she finally, really cries for the first time since the reaping. This is more than a couple tears. Her entire body quakes with sobs. Her knees give out, but before she hits the ground, Finnick’s shaking arms encircle her waist. One of his hands comes up to rest against her face and guide her gaze up to his.

For a second, she thinks he’s going to kiss her, and her breath hitches. His thumb rubs her cheek, his eyes dart down to her lips and back up to her eyes. He presses his forehead to hers. Her heart is hammering inside her chest, so much that she’s sure he can hear it. She sucks her bottom lip into her teeth. This might be a horrible idea. But some part of her believes (has always believed) that this would happen eventually. Or maybe she only hoped. She lets out a shaky breath and wraps her arms around his neck. He tightens his around her waist.

She closes her eyes. This is happening. This is happening….

She’s aware of every breath he lets out. Every little twitch in his arms, and the movement of his fingers drawing circles on her back. Only a few inches separate their lips.

Then he moves. She leans in, heart in her throat, but his face is moving away from hers. He buries himself in the dark mass of tangled hair bunched around her neck, almost clinging for support. She breathes a sigh of relief and winds her arms around his shoulders. She relaxes into him, but her stomach knots with disappointment.

This isn’t right. Spending time with Finnick is supposed to mean laughter and swimming and teasing each other. There’s no precedence for having a deep conversation in the middle of the night, almost kissing, and then holding each other while faced with her imminent death. Then again, theirs isn’t a typical situation to begin with.

While it can’t hurt to have a strong bond between tribute and mentor, it probably isn’t good for a tribute to have feelings for her mentor.

Annie freezes, and her eyes go wide. Did she really just think that? She’s highly aware of his lips, pressed against her neck. A shudder starts between her shoulders and rips through her whole body. She pushes Finnick away from her.

“I should get some sleep,” she says. Without her to hold on to, he folds his hands together. She fights the urge to grab them. “I have training tomorrow.”

He presses his lips together. Just a moment ago, they were touching her neck. They could’ve been touching her own lips, if she had just stretched a little more…. She shakes her head. Finnick stretches a hand to her, but spends too long of a moment trying to decide where to place it. He settles it on her shoulder. Warmth seeps into her from each of his fingertips.

He leans forward and gently kisses her forehead. His hand curls around her jaw. She’s completely frozen until he pulls away. Her body is torn in half by her desire to kiss him or run down the hall and hide in her room. She doesn’t do either of those things, though. She walks, calmly, through the door, down the hall, and into her room. She doesn’t look back. If she does, she’ll fall apart.

She climbs into bed and tries to convince herself it’s not true. She doesn’t have feelings for Finnick. She can’t. He’s her mentor. It would never work anyway. He’s Finnick Odair, Capitol darling. He could get anyone he wanted. And she’ll probably be dead within the week.

Her dreams are unpleasant that night, to say the least. She and Finnick are swimming in the ocean back home. He leans in to kiss her, but just before his lips touch hers, she grows a mermaid tail and swims away. When he begins to chase her, Holiday shoots him through the heart with an arrow, and he calls out for her to save him.

But Annie just keeps swimming away.


	5. Eggshells

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annie continues training and tries to keep herself away from distractions.

Holiday twirls gracefully, arches her arm behind her, and throws. The knife sticks in a target with a satisfying hollow thud. Sebastian claps a couple of times.

“Good job,” he says.

She shrugs.

“I didn’t hit the center,” she complains. “Let me try again.”

Before they can say anything, she twirls and throws again. The second knife sticks in the exact center of the target, inches away from the first one. Annie swallows. She has to remind herself not to think about one of those knives in Finnick’s hand, buried in another boy’s ribs. She has to remind herself not to think about Finnick in general.

This morning was horrible. Annie woke up shaking after watching Finnick die in her nightmares all night. She emerged from her room, tired and on edge, before Mena was even on the floor. With nothing to do but wait, she sat at the table and hugged her legs into her chest until Sebastian came out, rubbing his eyes.

“Can’t sleep?” she asked. He shook his head.

“You?”

“No.”

“Is it still okay if I train with you and the girl from Three today?” he asked.

She nodded. He sat down and they didn’t talk again until the food showed up.

“Annie?” She shakes her head, coming back to reality. Holiday is holding out a handful of knives to her. “You alive in there?”

“Yeah, sorry,” she replies, taking the knives and standing in position to throw. “I didn’t sleep much last night.”

Holiday snorts.

“I don’t think I’ve slept more than three hours since we got here,” she says as she picks at one of her gold nails.

“How are you even standing right now?” Annie asks. She breathes in, locks eyes on the target, exhales, and throws. The knife hits the exact center of the target and sticks there.

“Damn,” Holiday says. She sounds half mad, half impressed. “And I don’t know. Coffee, mostly, and adrenaline. Those things keep me awake pretty well.”

“You’ll be screwed in the arena, though,” Annie says, matter-of-factly.

“Yeah, because I won’t have any adrenaline in there.” Holiday rolls her eyes. Annie throws again, her second knife hitting the center of a different target.

“Nice one, Annie,” Sebastian says, grinning. She shoots back a small smile.

“He’s right,” Holiday says, but she sounds bored, as usual. “When we watched you in the reaping recaps, I thought you’d be nothing special, barely even worthy of killing, which is weird from Four. Guess I was wrong.”

Annie throws her third knife, unsure of how to respond to that. It hits the center target, in the dummy’s chest. Don’t picture that knife in Finnick’s hand, she tells herself. Don’t picture Finnick.

He was pretty hurt that morning when she wouldn’t even talk to him. Just after the food arrived, he shuffled in. She thought she helped him last night, but whatever put him in that sour mood just wouldn’t go away. He barely even paused to consider seating options before sitting next to her. She ate her food without tasting it and barely even looked at him. She can’t, despite his half-hearted jokes and slouched, defeated shoulders. Not until she can control herself, which has to be soon. She can’t suffer any distractions in the arena, and having feelings for her mentor would definitely fall under the category of a pretty big distraction. She spent breakfast sneaking glances at him without saying a word. He radiated with pain. When it was time to leave, she walked on the elevator with Sebastian feeling like she was still dreaming.

Annie collects her knives from the targets and passes them into Sebastian’s hands. She can only watch as Holiday says a few words to him and he throws all three knives. They all miss the targets, but only barely. He shrugs.

“Knives were never my strong suit,” he says with a nervous laugh.

Holiday pokes Annie in the ribs and mutters, “Clearly,” before moving to another station.

That morning, she and Hera decided to spend some extra time with the weapon they were most comfortable with. After they tried their hands at swords and axes, Annie decided to stick with knives. Hera chose archery. Sebastian, who learned swords yesterday, joined them for axes, and then followed Annie. They reached the station at the same time as Holiday. She wasn’t so thrilled to be around one of the other Careers when they had direct access to sharp weapons, but Sebastian looked very eager to spend time with Holiday.

She should warn him about that. He shouldn’t get too close to any of the tributes, not in that way, because it’ll only end badly. Of course, she could say nothing. If he’s distracted, that’s one less person to worry about in the arena.

No, she can’t think that way. Especially not about Sebastian. If she doesn’t go home, he has to. District 4 victory. It has to happen either way.

“I think it’s almost lunch time,” he says, breaking her train of thought. “Should we go on to a different station or loiter here?”

“I don’t know,” she says. “Is Hera still at archery?”

They both look over. She’s shooting an arrow with a full quiver next to her.

“Guess so,” he replies. “You know, she’s pretty good. And you said she’s smart.”

“I think she could go through the edible plants station in her sleep.”

“We should ask her to join us. The group, I mean.”

“The Careers?” He shrugs. Annie snorts. “I don’t really think she’d be up for that.”

“Why not? Getting in with us is anyone’s best shot at living.”

“She’s just not a big fan of their whole….” She waves her hands around, searching for the right word. “Attitude.”

“Neither are you,” Sebastian retorts. He has a point.

“Well, fine, ask her,” Annie snaps. “But don’t complain to me when she says no.”

He opens his mouth to say something else, but the head trainer calls out that it’s time for lunch. Sebastian runs immediately to Hera, undoubtedly to ask her to eat with them. Romana and Titus spent a lot of time at the ax station throughout the morning, and they both unceremoniously drop their weapons and head into the makeshift cafeteria. Romana spots Annie on her way.

“You coming, mermaid girl?” she calls across the room.

As Annie walks to join her, her limbs full of lead, she feels someone jog up behind her. No, two people. Sebastian catches up and walks in stride with her, grinning and mouthing, “I told you so.” Annie turns her head and sees Hera on her other side.

“What happened to not wanting to be mistaken for a Career?” she mutters.

“That got beat down by my instinct to stay alive,” Hera whispers back.

Annie almost laughs, but really all Hera did was remind her that both of them could be dead in three days. She swallows down the lump that jumps in her throat at that thought. Three days. That’s all she has left.

They move quickly through the food line, but Annie doesn’t get much. The closer she gets to the arena, the less she actually wants to eat, even though all this extra food is, most likely, helping her in the long run. They sit at the same table as yesterday. Romana and Titus are already there, and halfway through their first plates.

“Who’s this?” Romana asks, mouth filled with chicken and apricot cream sauce.

“Hera,” Annie answers as she pokes at her own chicken. It doesn’t seem so appetizing now that Romana’s spitting it across the table. “She’s from Three. She’s good with a bow.”

Romana licks her fingers and nods. Titus doesn’t even look up. They’ve both learned all they need to know. Annie looks between them and sees Leeri, the boy from 3, sitting alone.

There’s a clatter next to her, and she jumps. Ivory drops his silverware next to his plate and sits next to her, laughing.

“I have an animal for a district partner,” Holiday announces, settling into her chair like it’s a throne. “Don’t you know anything about how to act around people?”

“Who cares?” he exclaims. “Hey, guys. You’re about to watch me kill people. Sorry I’m such a slob, though.”

Holiday rolls her eyes and looks around the table for support. Her eyebrows furrow when she sees Hera.

“You’re from Three, aren’t you?” she asks.

“Yes. Hera.” She holds out her hand. Holiday doesn’t take it. Hera keeps it out though.

“Weapons?” Even when she’s asking questions, Holiday sounds bored. Annie can tell her interrogation is going to be a little more thorough than Romana’s.

“I’m good with a bow. I know how to hunt. My mentor is Beetee Latier. Happy?”

Holiday purses her lips and looks her up and down.

“For now,” she says, and shakes Hera’s hand.

A little knot bundles in Annie’s stomach. This was a bad idea. She never should’ve let Sebastian ask Hera to join them. She doesn’t look at anyone for the rest of lunch. Romana regales everyone with a fun fact she picked up from one of the trainers: How much force it takes to decapitate a person.

As soon as lunch is over, Annie makes a beeline for the camouflage station with Sebastian and Hera right on her heels.

“They’re not very pleasant, are they?” Hera asks, keeping her voice low.

“Still want to be in the group?” Annie replies.

“I still want to live, don’t I?” Her tone is light, but her eyes look heavy.

Annie doesn’t pay much attention for the rest of the day. She moves from camouflage to rock climbing to spears with Hera and Sebastian. Every time one of the trainers mentions real world applications of tying harnesses or throwing so the spear will pierce skin, Annie retreats a little more into herself.

She doesn’t belong here. Sebastian throws a spear, and it sticks in the dummy’s torso. He and Hera high five over it, but Annie thinks she’s going to be sick. This isn’t like combat training back home. They’re actually getting ready to kill people. With each passing moment the arena gets closer and closer to her, and no matter what, she can’t escape it.

This morning’s concern of hiding her feelings for Finnick seems distant and childish now. She looks around the room. A mismatched group from several different districts is shooting arrows. Romana is back at the ax station. She swiftly beheads a dummy. Annie’s one of the oldest people in the room. They’re all children. They should be in school, and flirting with each other, and playing games. Her biggest problem should be that she doesn’t want Finnick to find out she likes him. Instead she’s watching, eyes wide, as Romana decapitates another dummy.

Hera hands the spear to her. Instead of taking it, she mumbles something she can’t even hear and runs across the training floor to the small hallway where the bathrooms are.

She turns on one of the faucets and splashes some water on her face. If she closes her eyes and really concentrates, she’s standing on the white sand of the beach back home, near the cliff that people like to dive off of. The clear waves crash against the dark rock and spray her face. She can almost taste the salt and feel the wind.

“What are you doing?”

She snaps her eyes open and whips around. She’s still in the Capitol, in a bathroom in the training center. The sound of rushing water is coming from the sink; the taste of salt from her lip that she bit through. Hera is standing in the doorway. Her eyebrows are knit together and her lips are pursed. She crosses the room, takes a paper towel from the container on the wall, runs it under the water, and presses it into Annie’s hands.

“You should clean that,” she says. Her voice is soft but firm. “Can you tell how deep it is?”

Annie dabs at her lip. When she pulls the paper away, there’s a bright red spot. She makes a face and puts it back. She can feel where it fits into the cut.

“Not too deep,” she says. “I think it’s manageable.”

“You should probably still visit the medic station,” Hera tells her. “They can bandage it or something.”

Annie pulls the paper towel away again. It’s now a soggy mess. There’s a lot more of her blood on it. She winces.

“Yeah, I’ll do that,” she says, but neither of them move. Hera soaks another paper towel and then turns off the sink.

“It’s so weird that you can just do that here,” Hera remarks.

Annie pulls the paper towel away to speak.

“Do what?”

“Keep the water running. In Three, water can get scarce. You don’t want to waste a single drop.” She looks at Annie. “I guess you wouldn’t have that problem.”

“We can still have shortages,” Annie says. “They’re not as frequent, but we have them. Four has access to water, sure, but there’s not much we can do with salt water.”

Hera nods. Annie replaces her compress. Neither of them speaks for a long time.

“Are you okay?” Hera finally asks. “What happened out there?”

Annie lets out a shaky laugh.

“I’m not really sure,” she lies. “I just suddenly couldn’t breathe.”

From the way Hera looks at her, Annie is positive she knows that isn’t true.

“Keep pressure on that lip,” Hera says. “And you really should get it looked at.” She hands Annie the second paper towel and walks out of the bathroom. Annie switches the compresses and then follows her.

No one even looks at her twice when she walks back on the training floor. Even Sebastian and Hera have moved over to the trident station. As Sebastian twirls one of the weapons in his hands, Annie has to force her thoughts away from Finnick again. She walks right over to the medic station. The man sitting behind it stands up when she approaches him.

“What happened to you?” he asks. He’s pretty young, and normal-looking by the Capitol’s standards. His skin is naturally dark, but his hair is pale blue. The contrast is almost soothing. He pulls her hand with the paper towel away from her face.

“I bit my lip,” she says, her voice flat.

“I can see that,” he says with a laugh. “It doesn’t look too bad though.”

He reaches back and finds a vial of medicine.

“What’s that?” Annie asks.

“It’ll take away the pain and stop any infections.” She only nods and he applies it with delicate precision. “This won’t need stitches, and the bleeding has mostly stopped. Do you want me to try and bandage it or do you think you’ll be careful enough?”

The medicine is already working. She probes at the cut with her tongue. She can’t even taste blood anymore.

“I should be fine,” she answers.

“Just be careful when you eat, and don’t kiss anyone for a couple days,” he says with a wink.

Annie chokes on the air in her mouth.

“What?” Does he know? How can he possibly know?

“Relax,” he says. “I was joking.”

“Thanks for the medicine,” she says, suddenly uncomfortable, then runs over to join Sebastian and Hera.

“Did you freak out again?” Sebastian asks when she reaches them.

“Yes,” she says. He nods and drops the subject.

They throw tridents for awhile, then the head trainer announces that it’s time to leave. She reminds them that tomorrow after lunch they’ll be getting their individual scores. Annie’s heart jumps inside her chest.

She and Sebastian share an elevator up with Hera. None of them say much of anything. At this point, there’s nothing much to say. When Hera gets off on the third floor, Sebastian pulls Annie into a hug.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I would tell you everything’s going to be okay, but we both know that isn’t true.”

“That’s a bit of an understatement,” she whispers back. He laughs.

“You’re just walking on eggshells here, aren’t you?”

She looks at him.

“What?”

“Oh, that’s an expression I picked up from Holiday. It means—“

But she doesn’t find out what it means. He lets her go just as the elevator stops on their floor. The doors aren’t even all the way open when Mena grabs Annie’s hands and pulls her into the room.

“Annie, the Capitol loves you!” she squeals. “About ten prominent sponsors have approached me today asking for you. Of course, I’m not allowed to sign them up, but they’re out there!”

Annie looks around the room. Mags is smiling encouragingly. Sebastian looks like he just had the wind knocked out of him. Finnick is sitting at the table, slumped over with his head in his arms. Her hands start to shake. Whatever he did today, it was definitely bad. Maybe even worse than yesterday. It takes every ounce of effort for her to focus back on Mena. She curls up the corners of her lips in what she hopes will pass for a smile.

“Thank you, Mena,” she says. “Really.”

Then Mena squeezes her in a tight hug, and Annie sees Sebastian run quietly down the hall to his room. She makes eye contact with Mags, who nods and whispers something in Finnick’s ear.

“Hey, Mena,” he calls without moving at all. “Come remind me about the schedule for tomorrow.”

As Mena teeters on her giant shoes (bright pink today, like her wig) over to Finnick and Mags, Annie slips down the guys’ hall and knocks on Sebastian’s door. He answers it and lets her in without a word. He sits down on his bed and looks at the floor. The room is dead silent. She can almost make out what Mena is saying, all the way down the hall.

“So what does walking on eggshells means?” she finally asks, grasping for straws.

“It’s like when you’re really nervous but trying not to show it. I think.”

“You’re right. That’s me. That’s me exactly.”

Sebastian lets himself laugh a little.

“Shouldn’t you be out there being adored?” he asks.

“You know I hate that,” she replies.

“Yeah, but at least there are people who will pay for you to live,” he snaps.

“Don’t be weird,” she says. “You’ll get sponsors. You’re going to get a high score, and you’re going to nail your interview. In a couple days, no one will even remember me. It’ll be all about you.”

“No, you don’t get it,” he says.

“Get what?”

“You!” He pauses, gauging her reaction. She shakes her head, so he continues. “You didn’t even look human the other night, you looked like a living jewel or something. And you’re funny and charming, so you’ll definitely do well in your interview. If you didn’t have your freak-outs, if you were a real Career, no one else would even stand a chance.”

She knows he’s right, but the comment still stings. This must show on her face, because he softens.

“Annie, I’m sorry,” he says.

“No, you’re right,” she replies. She leaves before he can say anything else, and sprints down the hall to her own room. She’s vaguely aware of Finnick’s head snapping up when she runs past, but then she’s safely in her bed, buried under the covers, where Finnick and Sebastian and throwing spears can’t reach her.

Much too quickly, she’s called to dinner. She sits between Mags and Mena tonight. Finnick’s shoulders sag when he walks in, and he sits on the exact opposite side of the table, like he did on the train. No one talks except for Mena. Annie takes about two bites, then pushes her food around until everyone else is done. The cut on her lips throbs painfully. She goes back to her room before anyone can say a word to her.

Somehow she manages to sleep that night, but her dreams are, again, filled with Finnick dying, over and over, while all she can do is watch. She wakes up crying, her forehead and neck covered in cold sweat, when the sky outside is only just beginning to get light. There’s no point in trying to get back to sleep. She jumps in the shower, gets dressed, and walks out to the living room.

Finnick is already sitting at the table. Her heart begins to pound in her ears. He hasn’t seen her yet. She can slip back in her room and wait until Mena calls her out. But then, as if by cue, his eyes find hers. She swallows and walks over to join him, making sure to keep a chair between them.

“Did I do something to you?” Finnick blurts after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence.

She freezes. Her heart begins to hammer in her chest, so much it actually hurts. What can she say to him? It’ll be easier if she lies to him now, tells him she’s angry, but there’s a certain amount of pain under his frustration, and she can’t bring herself to do it.

“No,” she says. She doesn’t look at him. She can’t.

“Are you mad at me for some reason?”

“No.”

“You can tell the truth, Cresta,” he says. “Whatever it is I did, I’m sorry.”

She looks up at him and tries to smile. His eyes are ringed with dark circles. She wraps her arms around her knees to avoid grabbing his hands, which are splayed on the table between them.

“You can call me Annie,” she tells him. Her voice comes out much quieter than she intended. “I think we’ve reached that point.”

He returns her half-smile.

“No, Cresta, I can’t.”

She always thought it was a joke he had. Some little way of showing her how casual their relationship is. The way he’s looking at her now suggests something deeper, though. Before she can ask, the elevator dings, and Mena walks onto the floor, surrounded by people pushing carts loaded with trays. They unload the food on the table and leave while Mena sings the schedule for the day.

“Oh, good, Annie, you’re already up,” she trills, mostly to herself. “I was beginning to worry about how you’d fare in the arena without me to shake you awake every morning. Now after breakfast, you have training of course, then you show the game makers your individual talent, then you have the afternoon off, unless of course Finnick has more training for you. Then tonight we find out your score and begin to figure out how you should act in your interview based around that. Did you catch all that?”

“Oh, of course,” Annie assures her.

“Obviously you did,” Mena sighs. “You’re my star.”

She smoothes a hand down Annie’s hair and walks down the guys’ hall to wake up Sebastian. Annie turns back to Finnick to ask him what he meant, but Mags walks in the room at the same time. She smiles and sits between them before starting to eat.

Breakfast, like dinner last night, is low key. No one says much of anything. Even Mena, finally sensing the overall mood in the room, stays quiet. Annie takes a bite of her eggs. She moves her hand too quickly, though, and hits her fork against the cut on her lip and winces. Mags notices.

“Hurt?” she asks.

“Oh, no, it’s nothing,” Annie says, but Finnick’s head whipped around when Mags spoke.

“You’re hurt?” He’s concerned. Annie tries not to feel too happy about it. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” Annie says firmly. “I bit my lip yesterday during training. It’s fine.”

He looks unconvinced, but still turns back to his food.

When it’s time to go, Mena rushes Sebastian and Annie to the elevator.

“You both need at least a nine,” Finnick calls before the doors cut him off.

They don’t talk on the ride down to the training floor. They both mumble a greeting to Hera, who’s wide-eyed and energetic, somehow.

“So, are we starting with preferred weapons?” she asks. “And I wanted to hit the rock wall again, then end with edible plants, just so it’s fresh in my head.”

“Sounds good,” Annie says half-heartedly. Finnick’s words are still stuck in her mind. How is she going to manage a 9?

Hera skips over to the archery station. Sebastian drags his feet to the axes, leaving Annie to walk, trance-like, to the knives. She throws for awhile, with stiff, automatic movements. She only misses one target. Surely that will be good enough for a 9.

She almost falls on the rock wall. The closer she gets to the top, the smaller the holds get, and her foot slips on one. For a moment, she dangles, helplessly, thinking she’s about to hold a record. The first tribute to die before the Games even start. Hera is climbing next to her, though, and takes her hand to help steady her. Annie smiles and reaches the top then climbs back down without anymore near-death experiences.

The edible plants station is much easier the second time around. She and Hera zip through their charts. She has to help Sebastian a bit. Hopefully he’ll just stay with her the whole time, since she’s got the hang of it. If she makes it that far. She swallows nervously and looks at him. They haven’t said much to each other since their little fight yesterday, except for things about training. Once she dies, her sponsors will probably start supporting him. He won’t need to know this stuff. He’ll have enough food. Finnick will see to it no matter what.

Thankfully, the head trainer calls out that it’s lunchtime before her brain can go on a Finnick tangent.

Annie doesn’t eat today. Everyone else does. Romana even gets seconds. They all laugh and joke and hit each other, Hera included. Sebastian joins in, but half-heartedly. Annie just sits there.

Once lunch is done, they begin calling them, one at a time, right from the cafeteria, to present their talent. Ivory is called first, being the male from 1, and their table explodes with cheers and shouts of encouragement. As each person is called, these cheers get quieter and quieter. No one comes back after they’re done.

“Sebastian Dehlia, District Four,” the announcer calls out. Annie can’t even see the speakers.

“Good luck,” she says when he stands up.

He claps a hand on her shoulder and walks out of the room.

When, “Annie Cresta, District Four,” is called, there’s no one left to wish her luck. She stands and walks into the judging room with her head held high. She has to get a 9, that’s all, just a 9. Behind her, the rest of the tributes are dead silent.


	6. Knives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After showing her skill for the Gamemakers, Annie has to come to terms with certain feelings and events she's been avoiding.

The Gamemakers sit in a large room carved high into the wall, similar to the one on the training floor that they occupied for the past three days. They don’t notice Annie as she walks across the room. Some of them are sitting around small tables, eating and drinking what must be wine, considering how much they’re all laughing. The rest are on their feet, talking loudly to each other, and picking at the large buffet table set at the back of their little enclave. Annie wipes her hands down her pants, but she feels a little better overall. It would’ve been so much more stressful if she walked in to see them sitting silently in even rows, like she was expecting.

By the time she reaches the center of the room, half of them have seen her and they’re all shushing the other half and pointing to her.

“Annie Cresta, District Four,” she calls out.

“We know,” a woman calls back from the middle of the group. “You have ten minutes to present your skill.”

Annie walks calmly over to the weapons. She put shockingly little thought into this moment. She realizes now that this was a mistake. Her heart is pounding. Spots appear in her vision. Why didn’t Finnick talk more about this? He seems to be locked in his own little world. He hasn’t been doing a lot of mentoring at all.

Not that Annie or Sebastian needed a lot from him during training itself. They’ve both gone through training. That’s why the knives are coming so easily to her. She spent combat training days on autopilot until they were done, but she did all of it. Proper grips, throwing techniques, making a fist, all of that and more is stored inside her muscles. As much as she hates to admit it, she’s good at combat stuff. She’s said it once; she’ll say it again. She’s absolutely able to do everything the other Careers can, she just isn’t willing.

No, they didn’t need a mentor to tell them how to navigate training. In fact, he did give them good advice, from the get go. Ally with the other Careers. Learn a weapon. It would’ve been nice, though, to get advice about this moment, other than a half-hearted reminder to get a 9. The Gamemakers are all looking down at her, like they need her to get a move on. All she’s done so far is look at all the weapons. How many of her ten minutes has she wasted doing this?

She shakes her head and grabs a target to drag it to the middle of the room. It’s huge and awkward, but not very heavy. She balances it so it faces the Gamemakers. They need to see exactly what she can do. If she can even pull it off. She pulls her bottom lip into her teeth and winces when they find the cut. Shaking out her hands, she drags another target so it sits next to the first one.

When she grabs the knives, her hands begin to shake. She was given absolutely zero guidance on how to do this. She doesn’t know what the Gamemakers want to see. She doesn’t know what to do. If she came from another district, this wouldn’t be a problem. She could get a low score, no one would look at her twice, and she would die in the arena mostly unnoticed. But she’s from 4. She’s a Career. She has to at least play her part until she dies.

She stands far back from her target station and sets all but one knife on the ground at her feet. The grip is smooth and comfortable in her hand. She passes it to her left and breathes out through pursed lips.

Why didn’t Finnick tell her what to do? It can’t be because he forgot or anything like that. He must believe, deep down, that she’s fully capable of doing this with no problem. The other night he said she’s the only important person he’s had to mentor. He wouldn’t send her in unprepared.

But, still, he didn’t give her any advice. He left it up to her to figure out. And she’s more than a little mad about that. She breathes in and passes the knife back to her right hand.

So what do the Gamemakers want, deep down? She thinks about the tributes in their costumes, the extravagance of the food and the rooms, the bizarre mutts and natural disasters in the arena that she’s seen throughout the years.

It’s a show. Everything about it is for entertainment. All they want is a good show.

She swallows. Her hands are no longer shaking. The Gamemakers are silent behind her, which she takes to mean that they’re watching. She positions the knife to throw it. She inhales, zeroes in on the exact center of the target, exhales, and throws.

The knife whirs through the air and hits exactly where she wanted it to. She smirks as she grabs another knife from the pile on the ground. Without moving her feet, she repeats the process. This knife hits the center of the other target.

No noise behind her. She hopes that’s a good thing. She looks beyond the targets to the door that leads to the training room. In her mind, she runs through it and onto the elevators. But she hasn’t even done the impressive part yet. Plus her feet feel like they’re suddenly full of cement, so moving is impossible.

She picks up the next knife, passes it between her hands a few times, then moves it into throwing position.

Inhale. Zero in. Exhale. Throw.

She barely feels the knife leave her hands, and then it’s stuck in the first target, no more than an inch to the right of the first knife. She sighs, audibly, with relief. She picks up the last knife and does it again with the second target. It sticks with a satisfying thud, like when Holiday was throwing yesterday, right next to the other knife.

She did it.

Relief and white noise flood her brain and pound in her ears. Her limbs, which were metal and concrete a moment ago, are now full of jelly and air. It takes a lot of will power not to collapse to the ground where she stands. She spins on the spot to face the Gamemakers. She’s dangerously close to either melting or floating away. She crosses her arms to keep herself in place.

“Thank you,” says the same woman who greeted her. “You may go now.”

Annie wants to sprint across the room, but she doesn’t. She bows her head and thanks the Gamemakers. Then she turns on her heel and strides, chest out and chin up, into the training room. Once the door snaps shut behind her, she breaks into a run, all the way to the elevators. She slams her hand against the button, the doors ding open, and she throws herself inside and presses the number 4.

She takes a deep breath and slumps against the back wall, yanking her hair down so it shakes out over her shoulders. It’s done. She made it through training. The entire afternoon is hers. There’s no agenda, no schedule, no weird fittings. Interview prep will be saved until tomorrow. For a few hours, she can do anything she wants. She and Finnick can….

Her heart sinks. She can’t spend time with Finnick. The more she sees him, the harder it’ll be for her in the arena. The more he sees her, the harder it’ll be for him when she dies. Even as she thinks it, she closes her eyes and imagines his arm around her shoulder. His face buried in her hair. His lips pressed against her neck.

Then she sees a bunch of things that never happened. His lips move from her neck to brush across her jaw. A shiver goes down her spine as his hands travel from the small of her back and tangle in her hair. Just as his lips find hers, the elevator dings and the door slides open.

Today, Sebastian is the first person to greet her. He grins widely and offers her his hand. She shakes it and returns the smile. They’re both in considerably better moods since their fight yesterday, but not enough for things to be glossed over completely.

“Well, we did it,” he says with a nervous laugh. “We made it through training.”

“Yes, the hard part is clearly over,” Annie replies, holding back an eye roll.

She glances over to the table, where Finnick, Mags, Mena, Stella, and Irving are gathered. They’re all speaking in low voices. Finnick looks up and catches her eye. She immediately looks back to Sebastian.

“What are they doing?” she asks.

“Talking about the details of tomorrow, I think,” he replies. “They were like that when I got back. I have no idea how long they’ve been there.”

She nods slowly. Even if she can’t hear him, she can tell Finnick is speaking deliberately. There’s a passion about him that she hasn’t seen so far. She imagines, again, his hands in her hair, his lips pressed against hers. He points at Stella and arches his eyebrows. He presses his palm into the table and purses his lips. She imagines her hands sliding down his chest and up under his shirt.

“So what did you do for the Gamemakers?” Sebastian asks. She coughs a few times and shakes her head. These fantasies are dangerous.

“Threw knives,” she tells him, shrugging. “You?”

He makes a face.

“I did a few things. Spear, sword, ax. I hope it’s okay that I did more than one.” She’s about to laugh, but he looks really concerned.

“I’m sure it’s fine,” she assures him. “If anything it’s more impressive, right?”

He nods, but still seems unconvinced.

“Annie,” Mena calls. “Sebastian. Come join us.”

She smiles widely and beckons them over. Sebastian sits next to her, leaving Annie to the only unoccupied chair next to Finnick. Across the table, Stella smiles and blows her a kiss. Annie only smiles in return. Finnick stands up.

“Okay,” he says, addressing Sebastian. “First things first. Which weapon did you settle on?”

“I picked three,” Sebastian answers. “I threw spears, then I sliced some dummies apart with a sword and an ax.”

Finnick shrugs.

“They might like your versatility,” he says. “They might not. I think that was a good choice overall, though.”

“Thank you,” Sebastian says, more than a little relieved.

Finnick looks sideways to Annie.

“And you?”

“I threw knives,” she states.

He raises his eyebrows.

“That’s actually pretty impressive, Cresta,” he says. “I wasn’t expecting you to do a weapon.”

Well, she thinks, maybe if you’d actually advised me, you wouldn’t be so surprised. She shrugs.

“You know me, Finnick,” she says. “I always aim to please.”

He purses his lips.

“Did you hit a bullseye?” he asks.

“Two of them. And I also hit just off the center of each bullseye.”

“When did you get that good?”

“You’re kidding, right?” Sebastian calls. “She’s so good with knives it’s scary. It even freaked out Holiday.”

Annie has some trouble picturing Holiday, who’s constantly bored by her surroundings, freaking out.

“Good to hear,” Finnick responds half-heartedly. “Tomorrow you’ll both be in prep all day. For the sake of time and ease, we’re splitting you up, so Cresta will work with Mena while Mags and I go through interview strategies with Sebastian, then you’ll switch, then you’ll both be with your stylists until show time. Sound good?”

“Yes,” Sebastian says while Annie just nods.

“Good. There’s not a lot we can do before we see your scores, so you have the rest of the afternoon off,” he says.

Annie sighs with relief. She’s looking forward to taking a nap, or maybe sitting out on the balcony and trying to enjoy the fresh air.

Finnick looks at the clock on the wall and walks around the table toward the elevator.

“I’ll see you all for dinner,” he says with his back to the group. “Don’t go too far and don’t do anything too stupid. Remember that fighting before the arena is against the rules.”

“Where are you going?” Annie blurts despite herself.

He freezes and turns back to look at her. His eyebrows are furrowed.

“I don’t have the afternoon off,” he says, grimly. There’s no hint of a joke in his face or voice. Stella and Irving both stand and join him at the elevator with talk of finishing the interview outfits. Then all three of them are gone, and Annie is left, again, wondering how Finnick spends his days.

She knows the rumors, of course. She’d have to be deaf and blind and live in the middle of nowhere to avoid them. Since she met him, she stopped believing them, though. He doesn’t have the attitude of a carefree playboy out looking for his latest fling. If he’s trying to find a hook up right now, he doesn’t seem happy about it. It must be something else. Or maybe she’s just hoping it is. Maybe that’s why she always ignores the rumors in the first place.

She stands up, leaving the other three at the table, and walks down the guys’ hall to the balcony. Denial is getting her nowhere. It’s time for her to face reality and deal with it. She heaves the door open and slides it closed with a small bang. The air outside is too thin and too thick at the same time. A huge wind kicks up, forcing her to wrap her arms around herself. She leans back against the railing and groans.

“I, Annie Cresta, have feelings for Finnick Odair,” she breathes, grinning like an idiot. It’s the best she can do. The words sound funny to her. Awkward, but comfortable.

All of a sudden, the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. She straightens up and looks around. She’s completely alone. Between the wind and the chatter of Capitol citizens drifting up from the street below, there’s no chance anyone could have heard her. But still, the feeling is there. Like she’s being watched. She shudders and crosses to sit in one of the chairs just as the door slides open.

“Hey,” Sebastian says, stepping outside. “It’s kind of cold out here.”

She shrugs.

“A little.”

“Do you mind if I sit with you?”

“Not at all,” she tells him, patting the chair next to her. He sits on the very edge of it and twists his hands together in his lap.

“Where did Finnick go?” he asks. “Do you know?”

“I don’t,” she replies. “Something about mentoring, I’m sure.”

“Then why doesn’t Mags ever go with him?”

He has a point. Annie chews at the edge of her thumbnail.

“I guess because she doesn’t talk,” she says after a long moment.

He nods and they fall silent. Sebastian cracks his knuckles, one at a time. Annie winces with each pop. His palms looked calloused. Of course, hers would be, too, if she had three specialty weapons.

“Wait a second.” She speaks slowly as the thought comes to her. “Finnick asked you which weapon you settled on. Did he talk to you about them before?”

“Yeah, of course,” Sebastian says. “We talked yesterday about which weapons I’m best at and the judging session and everything. Why? Didn’t he talk to you about that stuff?”

The sun is too bright. The air sticks in her lungs. Her hands begin to shake. She balls them into fists on her knees.

“No, he didn’t,” she says through gritted teeth. “He didn’t tell me anything.”

“That’s weird, since you guys are…. Well, you know,” he says, raising his eyebrows.

Annie’s brain has clouded over with anger, but his words still somehow reach her.

“Know what?”

“Aren’t you guys together?” he teases. All of her annoyance with Finnick is replaced by panic and fear. Does Sebastian know? How can he know? Did he somehow hear her?

“No,” Annie yells. Her voice is much higher than usual. She clears her throat. “Where would you get that idea? We’re friends. That’s all.”

“Annie, relax,” he says through a laugh. “I’m kidding. I know you’re not together, that would be… Well, awful, frankly.”

Her stomach deflates a little. Heat rushes to her cheeks.

“What do you want, Sebastian?” she asks before he can notice her reaction.

“Well, I….” He looks away from her and laces his fingers together. “I wanted to apologize and clear the air between us. I’m sorry for yesterday. I shouldn’t have said those things to you.”

She pulls her knees up to her chest and wraps her arms around her legs.

“You were right, though,” she says softly. “I’m not a real Career. Throwing knives at targets is one thing. But do you remember Finnick’s Games? When that boy was about to kill him and he stabbed him in the ribs?“

“Yeah, that was pretty memorable.”

“Well, that keeps looping in my head every time I throw. I just watch that boy cough blood all over Finnick and then die.” She bites her bottom lip and winces. She has to start remembering that she has a cut there.

“That’s gruesome,” Sebastian says. “Do you know why it’s that scene that plays over and over?”

Scene. Like it was something in a story that never happened.

“No idea,” she replies.

“Well, either way, I’m sorry for what I said,” he tells her.

“It’s okay,” she says. “Really.”

He nods a few times but doesn’t say anything. Annie goes back to chewing her nails. An excited shriek comes from below. Clouds pass over the sun, robbing the balcony of the small bit of warmth it had. They both shiver but otherwise don’t move.

Why is Sebastian apologizing? She looks over at him. He stands, crosses to the railing, and looks out over the street. Small fights, insulting comments, all those things will fall away in the arena, she’s sure of it. In the face of certain death, who could care about such trivial things?

“Do you know when dinner is?” Annie asks instead of saying anything about his apology. He turns back to her and shrugs.

“A couple hours,” he answers. “Why?”

“No reason. What should we do?”

He strides back to the chairs and sits with his elbows balanced on his knees.

“We could come up with a strategy?” he suggests. “Or at least some sort of deal. And we should decide when to split up.”

Ice water floods her limbs.

“Split up?”

“Well, yeah,” he says. “If we both make it to a certain point, it would be better if we split up. What if it ends up being just the two of us?”

The water freezes solid.

“That could happen anyway,” she says, her voice constricted.

“There’s a chance,” he admits. “But that chance is smaller if we’re not together.”

She purses her lips. This conversation got too grim, too real, too fast. So much for her relaxing afternoon off.

“Top six,” she says. “We split up when there’s six left. But this deal is useless, because I won’t make it that far.”

“You will,” he says. “I’ll make sure of it. Just like you’ll make sure I live up to that point. Right?”

Her eyes comb over his brown eyes, his pinched eyebrows, the slight curve of his lips. He still looks like a child in some ways, but he’s beginning to grow into himself.

“Of course,” she says. “What are district partners for?”

They both try to smile.

“That makes things a little easier,” he says. “So I guess I’ll do the fighting.”

“Yeah, that would probably be for the best.”

“And you can hunt,” he adds. “If hunting is possible, I mean.”

She turns to face him and throws her legs over the arm of the chair.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” she asks.

“Who knows what’s in the arena? It might be so harsh that animals can’t live there.”

She shakes her head and scoffs.

“That’s stupid,” she says. “Sorry. But of course animals will be able to live there. I mean, we have to, right?”

“Not really,” Sebastian says. “If you think about it.”

As usual, he has a good point.

They spend the remaining time until dinner talking about the arena. What they think it’ll be, what sort of food will be available. Annie points out that there wasn’t a fishing station in training, which means there probably won’t be a large source of fresh water. A few times, a large gust of wind blows across the balcony, filling their ears, and tangling Annie’s hair in front of her eyes. They don’t go inside, though. They might be facing worse conditions in a couple days.

After awhile, the door slides open. Mena pops her head outside.

“It’s freezing out here!” she exclaims. “If either of you is sick when you go into the arena, I will never live it down.”

“Neither will we,” Annie says grimly.

Mena points at her menacingly.

“Mind your attitude,” she warns. “And come in, both of you. Dinner is on the table.”

This meal is the strangest one yet. Stella and Irving join them so they can watch the scores together after they eat. Both of them chatter with Mena about the outfits for tomorrow and things they’ve glimpsed from the other stylists. Mags doesn’t say anything, but hums to herself while she eats. Annie doesn’t recognize the tune. Finnick hunches over in his chair and pokes at his food without eating it or acknowledging anyone. His expression is cold and hard. Sebastian and Annie both eat with their usual fervor. The excitement of the morning restored their appetites, as did the cold balcony.

When they all finish, Mags turns on the screen while everyone but Finnick goes to the sitting area. Annie’s halfway to the couch when she notices him at the table. She approaches him and just barely lays her fingers on his arm. He jumps, but his expression softens when he sees her. His hand moves towards hers, but stops and settles on the table.

“Hey, Cresta,” he breathes. His voice is hoarse. His eyes are red.

“We’re watching the scores now, Finnick,” she whispers. “You should probably be there for that.”

“Oh,” he says, like he only just remembered he’s a mentor. “Right, of course.”

He stands and they walk to the sitting area. Annie sits next to Sebastian on the couch. Finnick stands off to the side of the screen.

The scores are pretty predictable. Ivory gets a 9. Holiday gets an 8. Titus and Romana both get 10s. The boy from 3, Leeri, gets a 6, which isn’t bad for a 13-year-old. Annie grimaces when they show his picture. He’s so small….

Hera gets a 9. Sebastian gets a 9. Finnick shoots him a smile. Stella claps her hands, Mena cheers, and Irving reaches over to grab his shoulder. Annie twists her hands in her lap and says nothing.

Then her picture is on screen, with the number 10. Hands and lips touch her arms and face from all around her, but she barely even notices. Her eyes find Finnick’s. He smiles and nods.

No one else gets above an 8. The boys from 5 and 6 both get 8s, as do the girls from 8 and 10, but no one else even comes close. It all ends with the anthem, and then Finnick turns off the screen and they all stand up to go to bed. There’s a lot of cheek kissing and hand shaking with Mena and the stylists by the elevator, and then Annie runs to her room to be alone before anyone can say anything else to her.

A 10. She tied with Titus and Romana for the highest scores. She strips off her training uniform and throws it on the ground by her mirror before pulling on some plain leggings and a soft shirt to sleep in.

There’s a knock at her door, gentle but urgent. She crosses back to answer it. The door flies open, revealing Finnick leaning in her doorway.

“Good job, Cresta,” he says. “I guess you are good at throwing knives.”

Anger flares up in her stomach out of nowhere.

“Not that you’d know,” she hisses. He crosses his arms.

“What does that mean?”

“You coached Sebastian but not me.” She’s fighting to keep her voice low.

He purses his lips and looks at her.

“Can I come in?” he asks.

Her cheeks burn hot, but she nods. He steps in and the door slides shut behind him. While her room isn’t messy, she suddenly wishes she had straightened up her pile of clothes or made the bed. He doesn’t even seem to notice the tiny imperfections as he crosses to her bed and sits on it. She stands in front of him with her arms tightly crossed, even though she wants to sit next to him.

Suddenly, in her mind, she struts over to him. He pulls at the hem of her shirt and begins dragging it up, his lips pressing against her skin as it’s revealed. She throws back her head and runs her fingers through his hair. Just as she settles her knees on either side of his hips, she snaps back to reality. Finnick is looking at her expectantly. He just said something.

“What?” she asks. Her voice is a little too breathy.

“Honestly, how did you get a ten?” he asks, jokingly. “You can’t even listen to me for five seconds.”

“Maybe that’s why,” she retorts.

“You know, those jokes won’t help you in the arena.”

The Finnick in her mind trails small kisses across her collarbone and up her neck. She clears her throat and shrugs.

“You don’t know that,” she says, keeping her tone as light as possible. “I think they could. I’ll just provide the entertainment by being funny until I’m horribly killed by a child….”

They look at each other without saying anything. Just a few days ago, she was crying in his arms because of the arena. That’s embarrassing. She pushes that thought from her mind. It’s replaced with an image of Finnick breathing her name against her jaw while his fingers delicately hook over the waistband of her leggings.

She winces when she accidentally bites her lip. He notices.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, walking over to her. “Are you still hurt?”

“Oh, barely,” she says, laughing. He can’t touch her right now. She needs to get him out of the room. “Why did you want to come in?”

He narrows his eyes at her.

“I don’t think you’re incapable,” he says. “I want you to know that. I didn’t ask you about your weapons like I did with Sebastian because I know you. I trust you. I’m giving you a hard time because I… I think you perform better when you’re nervous. Like when you punched me, you were nervous as hell.”

“I hit you in the face. I missed my target by about a foot.”

“It was a good punch, though,” he says, rubbing his jaw. “My point is, I knew you’d do fine in training. And now I can tell sponsors you got that ten all on your own. You’re naturally gifted. I have nothing to do with it.”

There’s something he’s not telling her. His tone is off; his smirk is hiding something he can’t say out loud. She lets it slide, though. If he’s not telling her something, it’s probably for a good reason.

“Thank you,” she says.

He places a hand on her shoulder. Her entire torso goes up in flames.

“Get some sleep, Cresta,” he tells her. “You have a long day tomorrow.”

He removes his hand and steps around her to leave. The second she hears the door slide shut, she collapses to the ground on her hands and knees.

“Get a grip,” she whispers to herself. “Get a grip, get a grip.”

He’s her mentor. But, even bigger than that, she’s going into the arena the day after tomorrow. She can’t afford to let these feelings consume her. She can’t deny them, but she has to maintain control. She takes a few deep breaths and climbs into bed. Maybe she’ll feel better if she sleeps on it.

She turns off the lights with the control panel on her nightstand and shuts her eyes. Images of Finnick running his hands all over her are intercut with her usual nightmares of him being killed. The blanket over her is suddenly suffocating. She kicks it off and tries to breathe.

If she were home, she’d run to the beach and go for a swim to clear her mind. A pang of homesickness hits her stomach. She swings her legs off the bed and stands up. There’s no ocean here, but she can still go outside. She presses the button to open the door and steps into the hall.

“You know what’ll happen if she wins, Mags.”

Annie stops mid-step when she hears Finnick’s panicked voice coming from the living room. Her face is hot. He’s talking about her. She flattens herself against the wall to listen.

Mags says something so low that Annie can’t hear it.

“Of course they’d make her do it. You saw how the audience reacted to her. Sponsors are approaching me on the street, and even my clients….”

His voice breaks. She can hear her heartbeat. It’s throbbing in her ears. Surely Finnick and Mags can hear it. She shouldn’t be hearing this conversation….

Mags speaks again. Annie still can’t hear her, but her murmuring is comforting.

“I don’t want her to die, Mags, she’s too….”

Too? Too what? Annie presses herself into the wall to fight her impulse to run out and do something, anything, to make the quiver in his voice stop.

“I don’t want her to live like this, Mags. I don’t want her to be like me.”

Her stomach jumps and her heart pounds harder than ever. She slips, as quietly as possible, back into her room. She sits on the edge of her bed and looks out the huge window across from her. Lights glare at her from the few buildings she can see. There’s a person, maybe multiple people, behind each one. Every single one of them could be betting on her life while she’s sitting there with her knees huddled to her chest, forcing deep breaths into her lungs. They’ll all ooh and ahh during her interview tomorrow. Maybe some of them will even mourn her when she dies.

Unless she lives. Then they could do something much worse. But what do they do that makes Finnick so nervous about the idea of her winning?

What are they doing to Finnick now?


	7. Show Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annie prepares for her interview.

Annie spends the entire night kicking her blanket and rearranging pillows, trying to blame them for her inability to sleep. But, really, she’s pouring over what she heard Finnick say. Clearly, winning the Hunger Games isn’t the glamorous life of luxury the citizens of Panem are lead to believe it is. Walking out of that arena means a huge house, sure, and tons of food, but it also means something horrible that Finnick couldn’t even say out loud. Annie’s head throbs painfully. Does she want to know what the Capitol puts him through, or can she leave well enough alone? Of course, if she plays the Games well enough, she could find out herself in a couple weeks. She forces herself to take a deep breath.

Honestly, her chances of winning are slim to none. She’s unwilling to kill, and the rest of the Careers are stronger and faster than she is. For the first time, though, she considers the possibility that she doesn’t even want to win.

This is the front-most thought in her mind as she drifts off to sleep, only a few hours before Mena walks in with a breakfast tray to wake her up. She opens her heavy eyes when she hears the door open and the squeak of wheels.

“Rise and shine!” Mena calls out. Annie cringes and pulls a pillow over her head. Mena’s voice is too high for this early in the morning, especially when she barely got any sleep.

“Go away,” she calls back from under her pillow. Her voice is dry and scratchy. To her dismay, Mena laughs.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that. Especially not today! Get up and eat, come on! I only have four hours with you after breakfast!”

The smell of salmon and eggs wafts to her from the food cart. Annie emerges and walks to the little table in the corner where Mena has set up their meal. She grabs a plate, fills it with fish, and sits across from Mena, who doesn’t eat, but sips at her coffee regularly.

“What are we doing in these four hours?” Annie asks with her mouth full. Mena crinkles her nose.

“I’m teaching you how to move in formal clothing.”

She swallows her bite of food.

“I’ve worn formal clothing before,” she tells her. Mena laughs.

“Not like this, dear.”

Annie’s hands go numb, the way they do when she knows she’s being condescended to. She ignores this and takes another messy bite of salmon, making sure to be as rude as possible. Mena purses her lips like she might gag. Annie smirks.

When they’re done with breakfast, Mena makes Annie wash her hands and face before putting on a knee length black dress. It’s soft as a cloud and trimmed with lace around the neckline. She helps Annie put on a pair of her own monstrous shoes. They’re way too tall. Annie teeters. Her ankles suddenly feel very fragile. She’s also much too tall.

For the first half hour, Mena holds Annie’s hand while she walks around the room and tries to keep all of her weight on her toes. Then, for the second half hour, Annie walks around by herself and falls down three times. By the beginning of the third hour, she sort of has the hang of it. She can at least walk, not fast, but she can walk. Mena is beyond pleased with her progress. There’s a cramp in Annie’s left foot that she’s sure is a pulled muscle.

Mena claps her hands twice. The gold bracelets around her wrists clatter together.

“Try a twirl now,” she sings.

“Do I have to?” Annie asks.

“I’ve seen Stella’s drawings,” Mena says, smoothing down the front of her emerald green skirt. “Trust me, you should practice twirling.”

Annie begins to twirl, but she trips over her own feet and hits the ground.

“Mena, you’ve done this before. Do sponsors like it when tributes fall down a lot?” Annie asks as she carefully stands back up.

“Not usually,” Mena says, pulling Annie’s dress straight. “And try not to rip that. You know, in case you fall again. It was expensive.”

Annie looks down at the strangely soft, black thing that hangs to her knees and smoothes her hands down the skirt.

“I’ll try my best,” she says.

“That’s what I like to hear,” Mena trills. “Now twirl again.”

By the time their four hours is up, Annie can successfully walk and sort of twirl. She yanks the shoes off and almost throws them at Mena, then slides out of the dress and back into the outfit she wore to bed last night.

“If I fall onstage,” Annie asks while Mena gathers her things and starts wheeling the tray back across the room, “what do I do?”

She pauses, looks at Annie, sighs, walks over to her, and runs a hand down her cheek.

“Do what you do best,” she replies. “Make a joke. Laugh it off. You’re more charming than you give yourself credit for. I just know you’ll go out there and make District Four proud. But, more importantly, you’ll make me proud.”

She smiles, kisses Annie on each cheek, and goes back to pushing the cart out. Annie presses the door button for her.

“What happens next?” she asks. Mena turns back.

“Next you’ll be in the living room with Finnick and Mags, then we’ll all have a late lunch, or early dinner depending how you look at it, with the stylists, then you get ready, then—“

“—Interview, got it,” she finishes. She follows Mena out of the room. While she walks over to the sitting area where Finnick and Mags are waiting, Mena parks the cart by the table and walks to Sebastian’s room. Annie still doesn’t understand how she can walk so easily in those shoes. She shakes her head and turns to her mentors. Her stomach sinks when her eyes meet Finnick’s. She’d almost forgotten about the conversation she overheard.

“How was your morning?” Finnick asks.

“Well, I have more respect for Mena now,” she says. “Please tell me I can sit down for this part.”

Finnick nods and she collapses onto the couch. Her arches ache. She pulls one foot into her lap and begins to rub it. Finnick pulls the two armchairs over so they’re facing the couch, then he and Mags settle into them.

“I’m going to be honest, Cresta,” he begins. “We have no idea what to do with you.”

“What do you mean?” Annie asks, switching her feet.

“Your image for your interview. You can be confident, but not intimidating. You’re smart and funny, but not cruel.” He makes a face. “Well, except to me.”

“I resent that,” she says. Her thumbs press into the bottom of her foot. “I make snide remarks. But I have never been cruel to you, Finnick.”

He throws his hands up.

“My point is, you’re naturally charismatic, but in all the wrong ways.” Before she can protest again, he adds, “For a Career.”

“Then what’s my battle plan for the interview?” She crosses her legs and folds her hands in her lap. He looks at Mags.

“Have you thought about it at all?” he asks.

“Funny. Sexy. Charming. Like you.” Mags doesn’t really say her words; she almost chews them. Finnick laughs.

“You think she can pull off sexy?”

“You think I can’t?” Annie exclaims, her voice much higher than it should be.

“Not Capitol sexy,” he says calmly.

“What does that mean?” she asks. He turns bright red and buries his mouth in his hands.

“It’s a compliment, Cresta,” he says through his fingers. “Can we get back to the big picture?”

Annie nods. “So, what’s my image going to be?”

“I don’t know.” He settles into his chair. “Let’s try a few out.”

They spend the rest of the four hours in a mock interview. Finnick and Mags randomly yell out personality traits while Finnick asks Annie questions she might be asked. She’s horrible at bloodthirsty; acting that way makes her cringe. She’s not smooth enough to be as charming as Finnick. When their time is almost up, Finnick stops.

“This isn’t working,” he says, half to himself.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, sitting up straighter. She thought she was pretty good at acting proud and bored like Holiday, at the very least.

She shakes his head. “It all feels off. Do you feel that?” he adds to Mags.

She waves her hand and half-nods, caught between wanting to be honest and wanting to be nice.

“What should I do, then?” Annie asks, beginning to panic. She has to be at least realistic in her interview. Believable. Lovable. The Capitol has to love her, so she can get sponsors. If she even wants sponsors….

“Let’s try a few questions where you act like yourself,” Finnick suggests. “Just not so snide or bitter about being here.”

“In other words, don’t act like myself at all?”

“Clever humor,” he emphasizes. “That’s what I’m looking for. Or how you were at the reaping.”

She shrugs and sits up straight, like he told her earlier, like she’s sitting in the interview chair.

“Ready when you are,” she says. He takes a deep breath.

“Alright, Miss Cresta,” he says in his best imitation of Caesar Flickerman, who will be interviewing her later. Annie smiles. “Half the Capitol and all your friends back home are rooting for you. How is that going to affect you in the arena?”

“Well, positively, I hope,” she jokes. He half-smiles while Mags actually laughs. Finnick drops his character.

“Okay, good, but more. Open with a joke, then answer seriously. How is it going to affect you? Will you fight harder to make them proud? Will you—Actually, that’s good.” He pauses and just looks at her. “Play it like that. It’ll work with how you were at the reaping. You’re nervous, but excited. You’re eager, but cautious. Your number one goal? Going home. Bringing glory to District Four.”

“Okay,” she says, cracking her neck. He cringes at the sound. “Ask me again.”

They work nonstop for the last half hour. By the end of it, she doesn’t even recognize her own voice. She sounds bubbly, and grateful, and optimistic. It’s a change of pace from her inner monologue, which has been figuring out how she will die for the past four days. She’s just finished answering her last question when Sebastian walks out of his room with Mena. She’s smiling widely. Sebastian looks fairly confident, though Annie can see a flicker of doubt in his eyes.

“The stylists should be here any minute,” Mena trills. She, Sebastian, and Mags walk toward the table. Annie stands up, but Finnick grabs her shoulder.

“Good job, Cresta,” he says softly. “You’re going to be just fine.”

She nods and they go to join the rest of the group at the table. Just when she sits down, the elevator dings. Stella and Irving sweep onto the floor, arms full of garment bags and small boxes, followed closely by Annie’s prep team. Stella sits right next to Annie and takes her hand.

“Darling,” she begins. “Tonight, you are going to look so good that no one will stop talking about you for days. Years, maybe.”

“Thank you,” Annie says half-heartedly.

The elevator dings again and people wheel carts into the room, unload them on the table, and leave, taking Mena’s breakfast cart with them. Her appetite overpowers her nerves, and Annie has a little of everything. They eat quickly, and the stylists have nothing at all, and then Annie and Sebastian are, again, whisked into their rooms.

The whole prep process is almost identical to the one before the opening ceremonies. Caplan, Straya, and Hugo strip Annie down and throw her into a warm, fragrant shower, then blow-dry her body and hair. They skip the waxing this time, which is a huge relief to Annie, but pluck the few stray hairs they must have missed before.

“I can’t believe how much of a success you are,” Caplan sings while she covers Annie with a silk robe.

“I can,” Straya chimes, pushing Annie down into a chair.

“Are you kidding, Caplan?” Hugo says with a laugh. His head still reminds Annie of a fireball. It’s highly distracting, to the point where she can barely focus on what they’re saying. He grabs her chin and turns her head towards Caplan. “Look at her, she’s gorgeous. Even if she wasn’t a mermaid, sponsors would be lining up to help this pretty face stay pretty.”

At this point, Annie completely stops listening to them. She’s vaguely aware of Straya’s shriek of horror at the state of her nails, and the pull of a hairbrush, and the forced movements of her face and limbs as they apply makeup to her. But she can’t stop hearing a cannon going off, or seeing her cold, lifeless body on the ground.

She can even smell her own blood, in a pool around her head, hot, thick, and metallic. It almost makes her gag.

“It’s not real,” she murmurs to herself.

“I’m sorry, dear,” asks Caplan, who’s working on her hair. “Did you say something?”

“No, sorry,” Annie says, fighting an urge to shake her head. “Just thinking out loud.”

When they finish working, Hugo takes her hand and helps position her in front of the mirror. Once again, she doesn’t recognize herself. Her hair is long, loose, and wavy. It flows down to her waist and shines like she’s never seen it shine before. Her cheeks and eyebrows are highlighted in gold, her eyes lined with blue, and her lips are pink and glossy. The most amazing part, though, is her skin. Every visible inch of her body shimmers with gold. Not the lavish, pure gold on her cheeks, but just enough to make her look like she was dipped in dust. It looks natural, like she could’ve been born with it. It’s subtle, but striking. Annie can’t help but be impressed.

“Do you like it?” Hugo asks. Straya and Caplan are standing just behind him. They all have matching, eager expressions.

“I like it,” Annie says, smiling widely.

They all smile back at her in the mirror before pulling off her robe and pushing her out into her bedroom. Stella doesn’t inspect her like she did last time. She takes one look and nods enthusiastically.

“She’s perfect,” she tells the prep team without taking her eyes off Annie. “Absolutely perfect.”

Straya, Caplan, and Hugo all noticeably relax and leave the room after Caplan pauses to kiss Annie on the cheek. The door slides shut behind them, and she turns back to Stella.

“You look absolutely perfect,” Stella says again, mostly to herself. She shakes her head. “You’re going to really love this dress, Annie.”

She walks over to the mirror and pulls the garment bag off of it.

“I’m sure I will,” Annie replies.

Stella purses her lips but smiles coyly, like she’s about to reveal an important secret. Slowly, she pulls the zipper on the bag down, and yanks it away from the dress. Annie gasps and reaches out to run her hand down it.

The alternating dark and light blue fabric of the skirt is smooth and flowing, but shiny. Between each blue stripe is a fluffy line of gauzy white material. The top, which is separated from the skirt by a rope of pearls, is made of two triangles that look like they’ll tie together behind her neck. The back is completely open. She looks back up to Stella, who’s smiling at her.

“Do you like it?” she asks.

“Stella, this is amazing!” Annie exclaims. Her smile grows wider.

Putting it on takes a few minutes. Annie’s worried the gold will come off her skin, but it doesn’t. The skirt sits comfortably on her waist. Stella adjusts the pearl belt so it stays snug. Then she ties the top, making sure the knot is secure enough that Annie won’t have to worry about it coming undone. Annie watches her while she fixes a few of the folds in the skirt. Her eyes are full of the deep concentration that Annie sees in her father’s face when he’s cooking.

Finally, Stella straightens up and stands back.

“There,” she says. “Now, look in the mirror, and twirl.”

She does. The skirt seems to come alive with her movements. White crashes over blue, blue over white. It looks like….

“Waves,” Annie says. “It’s the ocean.”

Stella nods. She feels like she could cry.

Annie stands still and looks at the dress in the mirror while Stella rifles through the boxes she brought for the right jewelry. Smiling, she twirls her hips back and forth, watching the waves catch around her knees. Stella hangs a string of pearls around her neck, and wraps one around her wrist. She holds up another box.

“I’m sorry if you’re not used to heels,” she says.

Out of the box, Stella pulls the most expensive shoes Annie has ever seen. The actual heels are tall, almost as tall as Mena’s, and so gold she can see herself in them. The shoes themselves are covered with tiny blue jewels. They look real. When she slides them on her feet, they fit perfectly. They’re even easier to walk in. Annie attempts a twirl, and almost doesn’t fall. Stella takes her hands to steady her.

“How do I look?” Annie asks.

“You know perfectly well,” Stella says. “But, for the record, you look radiant.”

Annie smiles and lets Stella lead her into the living room. The rest of the group is already there, standing around and talking in the living room. Everyone’s dressed up. They don’t notice her for a moment, and then Stella clears her throat loudly. They all turn at once and fall silent when they see Annie. Even Mena is speechless.

All eyes are trained on her, but her eyes find Finnick’s and hold them. She can’t read his expression. She hopes he can’t read hers. After a few seconds, she smiles and breaks her gaze to look at everyone else.

“Well, don’t everyone compliment me at once,” she jokes.

“There’s nothing to say, Annie,” Mena says.

It’s the first time there hasn’t been a musical quality to her voice. Mags nods in agreement with her. Irving steps forward, pecks Annie on the cheek, then pulls Stella away to chatter excitedly about her designs. Sebastian mumbles something Annie doesn’t hear. Finnick doesn’t say a word. Mena claps her hands and, the trill back in place, announces that it’s time to leave.

They file into the elevator and descend in near silence. The stylists keep chatting, but now Mena joins them. Sebastian leans over and taps Annie’s shoulder.

“You look great,” he says. “You should know that.”

“Thank you,” she replies. “You do, too,” she adds after taking in his suit. It’s the same light blue as the stripes in her skirt, and it’s trimmed in gold. He shrugs and smiles in reply.

The second the doors open, the stylists are off to the audience. Finnick, Mags, and Mena are staying backstage with them until they’re actually up. They find a secluded corner to huddle in. Annie walks as quickly as she can and has to flex her feet inside the heels when they stop moving. Still, they’re better than Mena’s.

Finnick talks for a minute, but Annie barely listens. She looks around backstage, at all the dresses the other female tributes are wearing. Although a lot of them look just as good as she does, they throw glares in her direction, or looks of longing at her dress. She swishes her hips a little and lets the waves crash on her legs.

When the huddle breaks, Sebastian stalks off somewhere. Mena and Mags both decide to go out to the audience early. This leaves Annie mostly alone with Finnick. The first and last place she wants to be.

“You didn’t listen to me at all, did you?” he asks.

“Sorry,” she answers.

“Just remember to be funny and grateful to be here. You’ll do fine.”

He purses his lips like he wants to say something else but doesn’t.

“All the other tributes are looking at me like they want to kill me,” she blurts.

“They do, Cresta.”

“I mean right now,” she says, exasperated. “Because of my dress.”

“It’s not the dress,” he tells her. “It’s because you’re easily the most beautiful person in the room right now, and sponsors are going to love that.”

Annie hopes the gold powder is covering up the blush that just crept onto her cheeks.

“Thank you,” she whispers. She’s not sure he heard her, but she doesn’t repeat herself. She smiles, but it quickly slides away. What is she doing? She’s about to go on stage and be interviewed. She needs to focus and at least try to prepare herself. But Finnick is flirting with her, a little bit, and Finnick is standing right in front of her. He’s supposed to be mentoring, though.

“Where’s Sebastian?” she asks suddenly. He furrows his brow.

“I’ll go find him. Give him some last minute advice.”

She laughs.

“Go do your job, Odair.”

“Since when are we both on a last name basis?”

She shrugs.

“Thought I’d try it out.”

He grabs her shoulder and gives it a light squeeze.

“Show time,” he mutters, and when he walks off to find Sebastian, he is entirely Capitol Finnick, from his sauntering walk to his charming smile.

Almost immediately, he’s replaced by Holiday, who’s wearing a slinky silver dress that would brush the floor if she weren’t wearing heels.

“Damn, mermaid girl,” she says, looking Annie up and down. “Look out, or Romana might kill you for that dress alone.”

“Comforting,” Annie replies. “Thank you for your kind words during this time of anxiety.”

“What, are you actually nervous about the interview?” Holiday asks. “The interview is the easy part. You just smile and tell the people what they want to hear. Cashmere gave me some great pointers. This is going to be simple.”

Annie blinks a few times.

“Why did you come over here?”

Holiday rolls her eyes.

“No need to be rude,” she sneers. “Do you see that group over there?”

Annie lets her eyes follow where Holiday is pointing. There’s a group of four people. Two boys, two girls, all around 17. Annie recognizes them as the boys from 5 and 6, and the girls from 8 and 10.

“Yes,” she answers. “But they’re all from different districts.”

“Exactly,” Holiday whispers. “And they all got Career level scores.”

“You’re saying we should look out for them.”

“Yes.”

“What else do you know about them?”

At that moment, several screens turn on, so people backstage can watch the interviews. A short, frazzled-looking woman rushes forward and grabs Holiday’s arm.

“You’re up in one minute,” she tells no one in particular. “Time to get in position.”

Holiday follows the woman, but turns back to Annie.

“I’ll tell you in about three minutes,” she calls.

Annie nods and turns to the screen. Caesar Flickerman, who’s been hosting the Games for as long as she can remember, walks on stage in a deep purple suit that matches his wig and eye makeup. Annie can’t see the crowd, but, judging from what she can hear, it’s huge. Caesar tells a few jokes, gets everyone laughing and happy, and then invites Holiday onstage.

The interview is an absolute breeze for her. Annie pinpoints her image in half a second. She’s sexy and brutal, and she plays it perfectly. Something in her coldness makes Annie shiver, and she’s suddenly glad Holiday is her ally.

Then she’s offstage again, and Ivory is walking on. Holiday walks back over to Annie, and, in an undertone, points out each person in the small mismatched group. Amory, from 5, is the tall one with dark hair and huge muscles. Gavon, from 6, is shorter and blond. Lark, from 8, is statuesque, with long red hair. Andrea, from 10, has dark skin and piercing black eyes. They stand together and talk, but none of them laugh, or even smile. From the way Holiday looks at them, Annie can tell she finds this eerie, but Annie thinks it’s normal. Why should they be laughing?

Ivory is backstage again, and as Romana gets in position, she looks over to Annie.

“Oh, damn, mermaid girl,” she calls across the space. “This just isn’t fair.”

Her dress looks more like armor, but still manages to be flattering and a little revealing. Annie doesn’t get a chance to reply before she’s onstage.

“Told you,” Holiday says, shrugging.

“Why did you tell me all that stuff?” Annie blurts. “About that group.”

“We’re allies,” she replies. “If even one of us doesn’t know this stuff going into the arena, we’ll all be screwed.”

Annie nods. Ivory walks up to the two of them.

“Hey, mermaid girl, looking good,” he says, looking Annie up and down.

Holiday rolls her eyes.

“What do you want, Ivory?” she asks.

“We’re leaving,” he says, pointing behind him. Their mentors, Cashmere and Gloss, brother and sister victors of back to back Games, are waiting by the elevators with their escort and stylists.

“Before the rest of the interviews?” Annie asks.

“Why would we stay to watch everyone else say the exact same thing we just said?” Holiday replies. “See you tomorrow.”

Ivory looks her up and down one more time, and then they join the rest of their group on the elevators. Annie walks closer to the entrance to the stage. At this point, Titus is being interviewed. She can hear the crowd laughing. She looks at the screen, but doesn’t listen. Hera walks up to her and smiles, but doesn’t say anything. Appreciation surges through Annie. Titus comes offstage and immediately joins Romana and their group in an elevator. She reaches over and squeezes Hera’s hand.

“Good luck,” she tells her.

“You, too,” Hera replies.

Hera is intelligent and cold in her interview. Leeri, who’s miniscule compared to everyone else, is shy and clever. They both join Beetee Latier and the rest of their team on an elevator when they’re done. Sebastian walks up and grabs Annie’s hand.

“Where were you?” she cries as the woman drags her into position.

“Focusing,” he replies. “Good luck out there.”

“You, too,” she calls just as the woman pushes her onstage.

By some miracle, she doesn’t trip on her shoes. She walks, as fast as she can, into the light, and towards Caesar, who’s beckoning to her with a wide smile on his face. A tidal wave of applause from the audience hits her and threatens to engulf her completely. She can feel her hands beginning to shake. Just before she drowns in it, she swallows down a deep breath and forces herself to smile and wave.

She just has to keep floating.

After what feels like a week, she reaches her chair and sits down. The crowd slowly dies down, and she and Caesar turn to each other. He looks weird in person. His face is stretched too tight.

“So, Annie!” he begins. “Big things from you so far. Volunteering. Your performance in the opening ceremonies. A very impressive score. How are you feeling right about now?”

She freezes. The lights are too hot. The entire stadium is packed with people, and all of them are staring at her. She casts her eyes along the front row, reserved for mentors and stylists, until she finds Finnick. He nods at her. She turns back to Caesar.

“I’m feeling pretty damn good, Caesar, I’m not going to lie,” she says with a smile. He laughs, so the audience laughs. Holiday’s right. This is easy.

“Of course you are, Annie, of course you are,” he says. “Now, of course, you haven’t been entirely up the creek on this one. After all, your mentor is Finnick Odair. I’m sure he helped you a lot.”

Annie scoffs.

“I think I’ve been helping him more,” she jokes. “He acts tough, but he could barely wield his trident without me.”

Caesar loses it again. Annie looks at Finnick, who smirks and gives her the tiniest of nods.

“You two are about the same age, isn’t that right?”

“That’s right,” she says, crossing one leg over the other.

“Did you know each other before you volunteered?”

“Oh, of course,” she says as nonchalantly as she can. “Finnick and I are old friends.”

Caesar smiles.

“How did you meet?” he asks.

Annie freezes again. She can’t tell the truth. The truth involves her crying because she hurt him. Sponsors wouldn’t like that very much. She takes a deep breath and says the first story that comes to mind.

“It was about a year ago, maybe a year and a half,” she begins. “He was cliff-diving, and slipped. I had to save him.”

She sticks out her chest and tries to look as confident as possible when the audience gasps. Finnick’s eyes go wide.

That story is true. It’s not how they met, but it happened. She went out swimming one day, and when she came up for air, she saw a person falling from the cliff. Normally, she wouldn’t have thought twice about it. People dove from there all the time. Still do. But the figure she saw wasn’t diving; it was falling. She swam to the bottom of the cliff and found Finnick, half-conscious. Despite the panic she felt, she helped him back to the beach, where he coughed up a whole lot of salt water. He declined her offer to help him get to the hospital, and stumbled off, alone, back toward the Victors’ Village. The next time they saw each other, he acted like nothing happened.

Caesar presses his hand over hers.

“Are you saying we all owe you for Finnick Odair’s life?” he asks.

“Definitely,” she assures. “I’m still waiting for my medal on that one.”

This, of course, makes Caesar laugh hysterically. He and the audience carry on for a moment, then he turns back to her.

“Annie, there’s been one question on my mind ever since you volunteered.” She leans forward. “What is the exact reason you did it?”

“I was telling the truth, Caesar,” she tells him, this time pressing her hand over his. His skin feels as strange as it looks. “I want to win. I want to bring glory to District Four and to my family.”

“And I’m sure the prospect of a week with Finnick Odair was pretty good incentive, too,” Caesar says with a wink to the audience. They all laugh and catcall. Annie sees Finnick’s face magnified on the jumbo screens around the stadium. He shrugs and waves with mock shyness. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he’s enjoying this attention.

But she does know better, and she’s suddenly angry. The Capitol citizens all cheer and shower Finnick with unwanted love, but he’s miserable. He doesn’t want any of it, and they don’t even care. As long as they get their toys, they don’t care about the consequences.

She forces a smile on her face as the crowd dies down. Caesar turns back to her.

“Well, who could turn down an offer like that?” she says, venom dripping like honey from each syllable. Caesar laughs again.

“Well, Annie, we all wish you the best of luck. Who knows? Maybe we’ll even be seeing you soon. Am I right, folks?”

The crowd cheers again. Annie purses her lips and locks eyes with Finnick. He must know what she’s thinking, because he shakes his head, almost imperceptibly.

She ignores him.

“Oh, but Caesar,” she half-jokes, forcing her smile back on. “If I had it my way, you wouldn’t see me again, because I’d be on my way home first thing tomorrow.”

She widens her smile and Caesar loses it again.

“Oh, now, Annie, you know the rules,” he jokes back. “Being from District Four, you probably know how dangerous it can be when the tides change.”

He laughs at his own horrible joke, pulling the crowd with him. Annie looks at Finnick, who shakes his head again, then directly into the camera, and finally back at Caesar. She shrugs.

“Not for a mermaid,” she trills in her best imitation of Mena. She smiles at the crowd, who all cheer for her again. Caesar smiles wide.

“Annie, I’d love to chat with you more, but our time is almost up,” he says. “But I do have one last request. Can we get a look at this gorgeous dress?”

“Do you want me to twirl?” she asks, faking her excitement.

The crowd erupts with enthusiastic cheering. She nods, stands, and twirls three times. The whole audience gasps and cheers. Annie looks down to watch the waves crash over her legs. When she stops, Caesar stands up, clapping.

“Absolutely stunning,” he says. “Sadly we’re out of time.” Then, to the crowd, he adds, “But don’t you all just love her! What a firecracker!”

The crowd cheers again. Annie waves to them, kisses Caesar on each cheek, and walks off smiling. Once she’s safely backstage again, she collapses against a wall. Sebastian looks at her. He’s clearly worried, or maybe scared. He’s whisked onstage before he can say anything to her, though. No one else looks at her. Maybe they don’t realize the gravity of what she just said. Or maybe they do, and they’re not looking at her because they’re afraid that might associate them with her.

She looks up and sees Finnick rushing toward her with a wild look in his eyes. He’s going to be mad. The interview is supposed to get as many sponsors as possible to think she’s good enough to win.

Considering what she just said, though, there’s no way she’s leaving that arena alive.


	8. Last Night On Earth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After her interview, Annie has to prepare herself for the arena, and has to say goodbye to everyone who won’t be going with her.

When Finnick reaches Annie, he grips her arms, tightly. The motion seems automatic, like he planned it out on his way backstage. His fingers look like they’re pressing hard, but they’re gentle. Firm, but not too firm. Still, the look in his eyes is enough to make her breath catch in her throat and her heart hammer against her ribs.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he hisses.

“I’m not—“

He laughs.

“You’ve made that pretty obvious, Cresta,” he says through gritted teeth, struggling to be quiet. “You are very clearly not thinking.”

She pulls her arms away from him.

“They were treating you like a piece of chum for the sharks!” she exclaims, keeping her voice as low as possible. “Like something they can just use and—“

“And that’s none of your concern,” he finishes for her. He leans in closer. She has to repress the shudder that threatens to shoot down her spine. “They’re going to treat me that way. That’s just what they do. It’s not worth you getting involved, and definitely not worth you saying things like that in front of the whole country.”

“They were cheering,” she retorts. “They loved me.”

He shakes his head.

“That’s because every Capitol citizen in that audience is a vapid moron who can’t read between the lines.”

“Then what’s the big deal?”

He grabs her shoulders. His eyes find hers and hold them.

“Snow isn’t, Cresta,” he warns.

Her heart sinks. She didn’t consider that. President Snow would be on the look out for things, no matter how small, that would threaten the intricate web he’s weaved around the whole country. She knows the Gamemakers won’t be happy, that they’ll make her death quick and forgettable. But if Finnick’s right and she made Snow angry, then she won’t even be that lucky. Her death will be painful, it will be hard and disturbing, and it will take forever. She crosses her arms and sets her face to hide her fear.

“What do I do now?” she asks.

He purses his lips.

“Not here,” he breathes.

Just then, applause roars from the audience. It follows Sebastian offstage. He’s flushed with adrenaline and attention, but he deflates a little when he sees Annie. Shortly after he joins her and Finnick, Mags hobbles backstage, followed by Stella and Irving. Both stylists are praising each other’s genius. Mags looks worried.

“Where’s Mena?” Finnick asks.

Mags points towards the crowd.

“Staying,” she chokes out.

“Good,” Finnick says. “She’ll be able to tell us if anyone else screws up so badly.”

He shoots a look at Annie, whose cheeks burn. Fear and guilt settle into her stomach. The six of them move quickly to the elevator. They ride up to their floor in silence, aside from the stylists talking at them in turn. Finnick leans against the back wall with his fingertips pressed to his temples. Mags rests her hand on Annie’s arm, but otherwise does nothing. Sebastian, no doubt sensing the tension, just stares ahead at the door.

The very second they reach their floor, and the elevator closes behind them, Finnick points to the sitting area. Sebastian and Annie both sit on the edge of the couch. Annie starts biting off her fake nails. Mags and Finnick stand in front of the screen with Stella and Irving. Finnick looks at Annie like he’s searching for something, anything, to say to her, but shakes his head and turns to Sebastian.

“How did your interview go?” he asks. Sebastian’s face falls.

“You didn’t see it?”

“No, I had bigger problems to deal with,” he snaps. “You can thank Cresta for that one. How did it go?”

“It went well,” he says flatly.

Mags waves her hand in the air a few times. She points at Sebastian.

“Good,” she tells Finnick.

“Yeah? He didn’t do anything stupid like, oh, I don’t know, try to start a revolution?”

Annie’s cheeks burn again.

“Stop it,” she snaps before she can stop herself. “I’m sorry, okay? I was upset that my volunteering was reduced to wanting to be close to you. And I was upset that everyone found that believable because that’s all they think you’re good for. There’s no use punishing me for it. I’ll be getting enough of that tomorrow.”

Before the tears that prickle at her eyes can overflow, she stands and walks as quickly as she can in her heels back to her room, where she immediately strips down and throws herself into the shower. She scrubs off what feels like a layer of her skin, dries off with a towel, and gets into pajamas for what could easily be the last time ever.

This is her last night alive. Tomorrow, in a few hours, really, she’ll be thrown in the arena. Then she’ll be sent home in a wooden box and buried. Maybe they’ll let her be buried at sea. It’ll be like she’s swimming forever, or at least until the crabs and other scavengers pick her body clean of skin and muscles and organs. She shudders.

A small knock on her door pulls her out of that train of thought, catching her between annoyance and relief.

“Go away,” she yells.

The door slides open. It’s Sebastian. He’s still in his interview outfit.

“Hey,” he says.

“Oh.” She was expecting Finnick. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Just thought I’d tell you that Mena’s back, and they’re all about to leave for the night.”

Leave? No, they can’t leave.

“What?” Annie asks, suddenly on her feet. “What will we do tomorrow without them?”

“Our stylists accompany us to the arena,” he says. “The mentors all head for the trading floor tonight to get an early start in the morning.”

“How do you know all that?”

He smirks.

“Mena just prattled off the schedule to us. She wants to say goodbye, though, come on.”

Reluctantly, Annie stands up and follows Sebastian back to the main room. Mena, Stella, Irving, Finnick, and Mags are standing around talking. They all straighten up when they see their tributes.

“Oh, Annie,” Mena calls out, throwing her arms wide. She wraps them around Annie, who tentatively pats her back. After a long moment, she pulls away, but grabs Annie’s shoulders. “My star. Best of luck.”

Her eyes are glassy. Annie wonders if she does this every year. Gets herself worked up and pretends to cry so the tributes feel a little better. Like maybe they’ll fight harder if they know their escort is waiting for them on the other side. Out of the corner of her eye, Annie sees Finnick shaking hands with Sebastian and speaking to him in a low voice.

Mena finally lets her go and is replaced by Mags. When Annie feels her arms circle her waist, she can’t help but relax a little. She returns the hug, bending over, just a bit, to rest her head on Mags’ shoulders. All the tension in her back melts away from her. If she could freeze this moment, and just stay here, hugging Mags, instead of going into the arena, she would. But then the old woman lets her go and looks at her with the same sadness she feels. Annie didn’t even realize she was crying until Mags reaches up and wipes one of her eyes. She smiles at Annie.

“Strong,” she says, resting her hand on Annie’s left shoulder.

She nods, Mags kisses her cheek, then she moves on to Sebastian. Annie’s heart pounds in her throat and ears when Finnick steps forward.

“Cresta,” he says tentatively.

“Finnick,” she says, mimicking his tone.

“What happened to our last name basis?”

“It wasn’t working for me,” she says weakly. “Besides, it’s not like it really matters right now.”

He furrows his brow.

“What do you mean?” he asks.

“We’re never going to see each other again,” she states. “So who cares what I call you?”

He closes the space between them and pulls her into his arms. She has to remind herself to breathe as her arms wrap around him. When she inhales deeply through her nose, she smells sugar and wet sand on his suit. She squeezes her eyes closed and commits that scent to memory. As long as she lives, she hopes she never forgets what Finnick Odair smells like. He kisses the top of her head before ducking down to whisper in her ear.

“Balcony. Two hours.”

Then he steps away. Irving dots kisses on both her cheeks, Stella gives her a huge hug and purrs out words Annie doesn’t hear. Finnick, Mena, and Mags all wave and say a few last goodbyes. When they all step on the elevator, Annie hears Mena sob. The doors close behind them, and she’s alone with Sebastian.

Unsure of what else to do, she sits back on the couch. He sits next to her. They’re both beyond nervous. Annie can see his hands shaking. They sit in awkward silence for a few moments before Sebastian turns to her.

“Before you say anything,” she begins, picking at the hem of her shirt, “please don’t mention tomorrow, or the arena or… anything like that.”

He raises both of his hands.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” he says. “I just wanted to say how… I don’t know. How brave you are for saying all that in your interview.”

She looks over at him.

“Brave?”

“Well, maybe brave isn’t the right word,” he says with a shaky laugh. “I wouldn’t call it stupid, either, though.”

Somehow, she knows exactly what he’s trying to say.

“Thanks,” she murmurs. “Although, from the way Finnick’s going on, I’m pretty sure I’ve been marked for a horrible death. If you want to break off our alliance now, I completely understand.”

He shakes his head.

“We’re all marked for a horrible death, Annie,” he says. “I’m sticking with you.”

“Until the top six,” she reminds him.

“Until the top six,” he repeats. After a moment, he adds, “Annie?”

“Yes?”

“Are you really not going to kill anyone?”

She sweeps a loose strand of her wet hair off her face.

“I’m going to try,” she replies. “That might hurt my chances with sponsors. Which is when you’ll sweep in and take them all.”

“No, you’ll still get them,” he assures her. “Finnick obviously picked you over me. He’ll fight to make sure you have tons of supplies.”

She shakes her head.

“For the last time, we’re not together.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he says. His voice is much smaller than Annie has heard it so far. “The Capitol loves you. If anyone from District Four is coming home, it’s you.”

That’s not true, but there’s no use arguing. He’s bitter enough. She doesn’t need to add to it, not now.

“I’m sorry,” she says after a long silence.

“It’s not your fault,” he says, standing up. “I’m going to wash all this off and try to get some sleep. You should, too. Sleep, I mean.”

“I’ll try,” she says.

He nods a few times.

“See you tomorrow,” he offers.

“Yeah,” she replies. “Tomorrow.”

He slips into his room. When she hears the door slide shut, she moves, quickly and quietly, down his hall and out onto the balcony. Finnick won’t be there for a long time, but the outside air can only do her good. She settles into one of the chairs along the wall and curls all her limbs into herself. Her teeth chatter in the chilled air that’s settled all around her. She wills herself to ignore it. Who knows what sort of weather she’ll be facing tomorrow. This could be nothing. Still, she wishes she’d dried her hair first.

She bites the edges of her nails, wondering if there’s a way to remove the fake ones. These can’t be helpful in the arena. She stretches her hands out to admire her prep team’s handiwork. Maybe they can be her weapon. She tries to laugh at the idea of running around 23 people who are all armed with deadly weapons and hunting her with nothing but her fingernails.

But that just reminds her that she’ll be in the arena tomorrow, and 23 other people will be after her. Well, 22. She can count out Sebastian. Even if they didn’t get along, no one wants to be the person who goes home with the blood of their district partner on their hands. He’d be shunned, or worse. She pulls her hands back into her chest and sits there, shivering, for a long time until the door next to her slides open.

Her heart stops when Finnick steps onto the balcony. He looks somehow older than he did just two hours ago. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, and his top buttons are undone. Annie bites her lip to stop herself from imagining what would happen if she walked over and undid the rest of them.

He nods in greeting and crouches right in front of her.

“You’re shivering,” he states.

“I’m fine.”

He shakes his head.

“You’re not,” he says. “You’re freezing.”

“I said I’m fine, Finnick,” she says, a little too forcefully. “What do you want?”

“To warn you,” he says under his breath.

“About what?”

“Snow,” he says. “The arena. He definitely has it out for you after the stunt you pulled.”

“How can you possibly know that?” she asks.

A shadow crosses his eyes. He swallows.

“I have my sources,” he mutters.

“What should I do?” She feels like she’s been asking him that all night.

“Play it safe. Play it smart.”

She looks into his eyes, which she immediately regrets. Even in the dim light, they’re impossibly blue. Or maybe green, or both. They’re like the ocean on a bright day. She looks away quickly before he can make her homesick.

“I’m scared,” she breathes. “I don’t want to be here.”

He moves into the chair next to hers and leans in close to her. She has to spend a moment catching her breath.

“No one does, Cresta,” he tells her. “I can’t think of a single person, tribute or mentor, who actually wants to be here.”

“One and Two seem right at home here.”

“It’s a show,” he says. “They want to go home just as much as anyone else. More than anyone else, maybe.”

“So, I guess you can’t really be mad about my interview,” she says, leaning a little closer to him. “Since everyone’s just desperate to get home, and since I wasn’t thinking straight.”

“No, I’m still mad about that,” he says, but calmly. “Everyone wants to go home, but they’re not calling for last minute rule changes. I’m going to have to do a lot of recon for that slip up.”

“Will it ruin my chances with sponsors?”

She’s been caught between life and death for the past day. Right now, she’s leaning towards life. Looking at Finnick makes her want to fight, and claw, and struggle through so she can go home. His eyes shift to her. Her desire for a homecoming grows stronger.

“No,” he says. “You could’ve stood on stage screaming about tearing down the entire Capitol with your bare hands, and as long as you twirled while you did it, you’d still be getting sponsors.”

He picks at one of his nails. His fingers are long. She pictures them trailing up her spine, but, all too quickly, they’re wrapped around the handle of a knife which is buried in another boy’s ribs. She gasps. He looks up at her.

“Finnick?” She has to broach her next question carefully. There’s no use avoiding it, though. It may not be avoidable. “How did…. What’s it like… to kill a person?”

She can’t meet his eyes, but she knows he’s surprised.

He doesn’t say anything for a long time, but then almost spits out, “It’s awful.”

She allows herself to look at him. His eyes are clouded over with some dark, unwanted memory. That look is her fault. She reaches for his hands. For a moment, she hesitates. Nothing she does tonight will even matter tomorrow. Holding her breath, she slides her fingers in between his. He looks at their hands, then up at her. Though he smiles at her, his eyes are just as dark as they were a moment ago. He shifts his fingers, just for a moment, so they fit between hers, before pulling his hands away entirely.

Heat creeps into her cheeks. She tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear and lays her own hands in her lap. If she hadn’t volunteered, she’d be at home right now, curled up in her own bed, where the air smells like the ocean mixed with the flowery perfume her mother buys illegally. Or she’d be sitting in the living room with her father, tying knots or listening to him tell stories about his day. She stares out over the balcony, wishing there was some way for her to go back in time and stay home.

But if she weren’t here, that 12-year-old girl would be. Annie shakes her head and turns back to Finnick, who’s looking at her strangely.

“What?” she asks.

“You remember saving my life,” he breathes.

That’s the last thing she expected him to say.

“Of course,” she says, gently. “Didn’t you watch my interview? I’ve been waiting for my medal.”

“Thank you,” he says. There’s no hint of a joke in him.

“You’re welcome,” she replies.

He nods a few times and stands up slowly, crossing to lean out over the railing. She follows him, swinging her legs back over the arm of her chair, and then tiptoeing her way across the spacious concrete landing to stand near him.

Below them, Capitol citizens are screaming and running to each other and celebrating. They watch silently as two tiny, dark figures collide into each other, laughing. The people don’t pull apart for a long time. If they were on one of the top floors, they’d be able to see the fireworks at the President’s mansion.

“Finnick?” she asks suddenly.

He looks at her. She shakes her head. She doesn’t have a follow up question. He almost smiles and reaches forward to curl a strand of her hair around his finger.

“I can’t believe how smooth Stella got your hair tonight,” he says.

“I know,” she replies. Her voice is hollow. “It was weird.”

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with brushed hair before this week.” His fingers brush her neck. She has to remind herself to exhale.

“Well, I’ll keep that in mind in case I make it back,” she says, trying to joke. “Brush my hair more often. Got it.”

“No, don’t,” he says, suddenly meeting her eyes. “I like your messy hair.”

When he pulls his hand away to look back out over the railing, he’s gentle. Just tonight, Annie has seen Finnick go through innumerable characters. The Capitol playboy. The down-to-earth, tactical, super serious mentor. The incredibly frustrated mentor. The flirtatious young man backstage. And, now, her friend, Finnick, from back home, who swam with her, and who she saved from drowning.

She can’t decide which one is the real Finnick. She doesn’t even think he can figure that out.

But, then, as she watches him watching the people on the street, she realizes something. He really is all of those things, but he’s something else, too. Beneath all of his personas, there’s a unifying strand of sadness and pain. He’s like a broken vase. Something scattered across the ground, in so many pieces that’s it’s unbelievable they make something whole.

It’s a shame, really, that she won’t be able to glue all the pieces together. She’s sure that he’d be one beautiful vase.

“Finnick?” she whispers again.

He turns to her, even though he already knows she doesn’t have anything to say. They look at each other for a moment. A breeze kicks up, forcing Annie to shiver. He reaches out to her on reflex.

“Are you cold?” he asks.

Concern is etched into his face. His entire body seems to be on edge. Again, she imagines undoing all the buttons on his shirt.

“Freezing,” she breathes, even though she’s fine now.

He wraps his arms around her. Before he can rest his chin on her head and look back over the railing, she stops him by placing her hands on his chest. He looks down at her; eyebrows furrowed, eyes shining, lips slightly pouting.

By this time tomorrow, she’ll most likely be dead.

“What’s wrong?” he murmurs.

Her hands, though pressed against him, are shaking. She bites her lip and winces. She was hoping that injury would be gone by now.

“Would it be okay if….”

She slides her arms around his neck. His eyes go wide, pupils dilating, and dart down to her lips, just once.

“Cresta?”

She stretches her neck out, but he’s much taller than she is. Her whole body is on fire. She stands up on her tiptoes. His arms tighten around her. This is a horrible idea. She shouldn’t be doing this. But then his fingers curl against the small of her back, and his face is so close to hers….

By this time tomorrow, she’ll most likely be dead.

“Is it okay if….”

For some reason, she can’t finish the question. She can’t say the words out loud. Her nose and mouth are full of the scent of sugar and wet sand. She doesn’t need to finish her sentence.

Her hands run up into his hair, and she closes the space between their lips.

At first, he freezes. He does nothing while she presses her lips to his, slowly and gently, and then pulls away. They stand there, wrapped around each other in stunned silence for a moment. This is a horrible idea. But she can’t bring herself to move. Not until he moves back into her and reconnects their lips.

This isn’t a dream. This isn’t in her head. Finnick’s hands are sliding up her back, and he’s kissing her, and he tastes like three sugars in his morning coffee and something she can’t recognize and home. She feels his fingers combing through her tangled hair, and she only holds onto him tighter.

Much too quickly, he breaks the kiss and pushes her away, covering his mouth with his hands. She crosses her arms to hide how much that really stings.

“Oops,” she says. Her voice is too weak to say much else. She can easily either float or fall right now, or maybe both. Finnick looks up at her.

“That doesn’t even begin to cover it,” he says through his fingers. Suddenly, he’s at the railing, searching the buildings that they can see. Most of the windows are dark. People are either in bed or celebrating the start of the Games.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, not knowing what else to say. He doesn’t hear her.

He turns back to her, but doesn’t meet her eyes.

“I don’t think anyone saw us.” All-business mentor Finnick is back. “What the hell was that, Cresta?”

Annie feels her heart rip apart and snap her ribs. Her arms go numb. It’s difficult to breathe.

“I don’t know,” she stammers. There’s a lump in her throat she can’t swallow. “I just figured, it’s my last night on earth and all.”

She tries to smile. He takes a step closer to her and points right at her.

“That’s not funny,” he says, like the idea that she could die only entered his head just this moment.

“I’m sorry,” she repeats.

He crosses his arms, mimicking her pose, while he stares at her. He reaches out to grab her shoulder, but stops halfway and pulls his arm back.

“Good luck in the arena,” he says, finally.

Before she can say another word, he bolts across the balcony and through the sliding door. She can only stare after him for a moment, holding herself. She licks her lips. They still taste like him.

She just kissed Finnick Odair. That’s real. He kissed her back. That’s also real. Slowly, she moves her feet, one at a time, across the balcony, through the sliding door, down the hall, and into her room. She sits on the edge of the bed, then lies down.

Somehow, she drifts to sleep. In her dream, Finnick is tied to a target, unconscious, while President Snow stands off to the side, yelling at her to throw. She looks down to see a knife in her hand. Finnick’s heart is directly over the bullseye. She looks to Snow and raises the knife to throw it. He’s making her do this. But she doesn’t want to. At the last minute, she throws her knife at President Snow instead. His body slams against the ground, and she rushes to the target, but before she can reach Finnick, she opens her eyes to Stella shaking her shoulders.

“Time to go,” she says, sadly.

Annie sits up straight and looks around the room. Finnick is okay. President Snow is still alive. Today is the day of the Hunger Games.

She’s about to go in the arena.

Suddenly, she’s wide-awake. She swings her feet off the bed, stands up, and follows Stella out of the room. The breakfast set for them is simple. Just eggs, sausage, and toast. It’s perfect, though. Annie eats a little of everything, even though she’s not hungry. She and Sebastian exchange nods when he and Irving come out of his room, but no one says a word while they eat.

Much too soon, it’s time to go. They ride the elevator down to the lobby, then walk outside and onto a large hovercraft that takes them to the staging area for the arena.

Somewhere out there, Finnick is on the trading floor, signing on sponsors and getting harassed by half the Capitol. But she can’t think about him now. She kissed him. That was her goodbye. She’s definitely going to die, but she wants to live for as long as possible before that happens. If she allows herself to be distracted, then that moment will come very soon.

She squeezes her eyes shut and locks all her thoughts about Finnick into a deep corner of her mind, where they won’t bother her.

Stella steers her off the hovercraft and down several winding halls until they reach a private room that’s small by the Capitol’s standards. It’s still bigger than her room back home.

Annie doesn’t say anything while Stella dresses her in the uniform that all the tributes will be wearing. Long black pants. Sturdy, comfortable leather hiking boots. A plain green t-shirt. A black jacket with a hood. Stella feels the sleeve of the jacket before handing Annie a hair tie so she can pull her own hair back.

“That’s a special thermal material,” she says. “It might be cold up there. And those boots have rubber soles, which means there’s probably some rough terrain.”

Annie nods, fitting the tie around a very hasty ponytail.

“Thank you,” she says. Her voice is very nearly gone. Stella smoothes a hand down her cheek, then reaches into her bag.

“I nearly forgot,” she purrs. “Your district token.”

She pulls out the starfish barrette and clips it into Annie’s hair, just behind her ear. It wasn’t even a week ago when her mother gave it to her.

“Thank you,” Annie repeats. “Again.”

Stella grabs her shaking hands.

“Don’t you worry,” she says firmly. “I’ll see you soon.”

The intercom in the corner announces that there’s only a minute until launch time. Annie walks, stiffly, over to the launch pad and stands in the center of it. Stella holds her hands until a glass tube descends around her. She presses her hands against the barrier, feeling a lot like she’s on display.

“See you soon,” she says, half-heartedly.

Stella smiles and blows her a kiss before the pad under Annie’s feet starts moving up. She presses her hands even harder against the glass, but it’s no use.

When she reaches the top, the ceiling opens up for her, and the pad slides into its proper place in the arena. She blinks the white-hot sunlight from her eyes. All she can see is the circle of tributes around her. She can’t tell who is who. The cornucopia is directly in front of her, maybe 50 feet. The ground is dry. All she knows is it’s not sand. She swallows and tries to look brave and eager.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Cladius Templesmith’s voice rings out across the arena. “Let the 70th Hunger Games begin!”


	9. 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annie struggles through the bloodbath.

A timer appears over the cornucopia, ticking down the seconds left until they all have to start fighting for their lives.

60… 59… 58…

Annie holds her hand against the sun and looks around. Dry earth stretches around her in a huge oval. The cornucopia seems to mark the exact center. Trees surround the area and curve upward. She can’t see the edge. Except for the side exactly opposite of her. There, the trees meet a huge, smooth wall.

43… 42… 41…

It looks like a cliff, but it can’t be a cliff. She can figure it out later.

There’s no sign of a fresh water source. There has to be one somewhere, though. Maybe there’s a river of some kind running through the trees. With the sun this bad, none of them will make it long without water. Annie’s already sweating.

30… 29… 28…

Some of the other tributes are looking around. She can’t see Sebastian. Hera is only two people away from her. They make eye contact but otherwise don’t acknowledge each other. Holiday is halfway across the circle on one side; Titus is halfway across on the other. Annie can’t see any of the other careers.

The cornucopia is facing away from her, so she can’t see what kind of things it holds. Undoubtedly, there’s a good amount of food, and some weapons. She’ll have to get a set of knives, even if she doesn’t plan on using them. A bunch of items are spread on the ground in front of the tributes. There’s a backpack just a few feet away from her.

16… 15… 14…

She could step off the platform now, and get blown to bits, and never have to face this.

11… 10… 9…

It’s happened before. She could make it look like an accident.

7… 6… 5…

Annie takes a deep breath.

4… 3… 2…

Stay safe, her father’s voice urges her.

1…

The timer disappears, a cannon sounds, and the tribute next to her darts towards Annie and scoops up the backpack in front of her before she can even move. She watches him run full out into the woods before she remembers where she is.

She missed her opportunity to die on her own terms. She looks down at the ground, where the now inactive land mines are buried. If she hadn’t hesitated, she wouldn’t have to worry about any of this right now. It’s too late, though. She’ll have to die on their terms now. She forces herself to focus, or that death could come faster than she’d like it to.

The rest of the tributes seem to split down the middle. Half are racing to the cornucopia, or the supplies scattered around it, while the rest follow Annie’s thieving neighbor into the woods.

She still hasn’t moved from her platform, though. Her feet are frozen to the surface. It’s only been a few seconds, but they’re ticking along like hours.

“Annie!” she hears from somewhere to her right.

The shout makes her move. With one step off the platform, the world snaps into place. Screams reach her from the open mouth of the cornucopia. She can’t see what’s happening. She’s not sure she wants to.

She can practically hear Finnick screaming at her to move, to run, to hide, to do something besides stand there. She can practically see his eyes that look like home, wild with concern, his mouth….

No, she can’t think about Finnick. Not now.

She takes a deep breath and begins to run, full out toward the cornucopia. Tributes are already starting to streak past her for the woods. She dodges one who swipes at her with a sword. A moment later, the boy crumples to the ground with a spear in his back. Annie stops short. Ivory comes rushing up, skin glowing from excitement and exercise, to collect his weapon.

“You okay, mermaid girl?” he asks. She makes a weird gesture between a nod and a shrug. “Well, come on,” he shouts, turning to run back to the cornucopia.

Annie looks down at the boy who almost killed her. There’s a 7 on the sleeve of his jacket. She keeps running.

A flash of red catches her eye. Little Leeri, Hera’s district partner, just dived out from behind the cornucopia and is now sprinting as fast as his legs can carry him. There’s a small bag clutched in his hand. He’s easily the smallest person on the field. He shouldn’t be here.

He’s halfway to the trees, but then he cries out and collapses to the ground. Annie didn’t see the arrow hit him, but she sees it now, sticking out of his chest. He twitches a few times, then stops moving. She can only stare, horrorstruck, until another arrow lands at her feet. Her eyes quickly find Lark, the girl from 8 with long flaming hair, at the edge of the woods. She’s already loading another arrow.

And pointing it right at Annie.

Without thinking, she sprints and then dives behind the cornucopia, where she plasters herself against a wall and freezes. She squints to look around the clearing. The sun is blinding, the sky is too blue, the trees too green, and people move around her in blurs of achingly bright red. Blood, she realizes.

The people don’t have faces, and Annie has to remind herself to breathe. A tall, muscular boy falls to the ground at the feet of a short girl with a wave of blonde hair pulled back and secured tightly off her face. She kicks his sword away and slams her own into his chest, twisting it cruelly until he stops trying to fight her off and dies. A pool of his own blood leaks out around the sword. Some of it sprays on the girl when she yanks the weapon out of him and turns to find her next opponent.

When her eyes land on Annie, she shrinks down to the ground. Maybe if I just sit here, the cornucopia will absorb me, she thinks. Maybe I can hide like this for the rest of the Games.

“Hey, mermaid girl,” the blonde girl calls out. “What’s wrong? Come on! Don’t let us have all the fun!”

Holiday, Annie realizes as the girl runs to the other side of the cornucopia to hunt down some other kid. She looks at the boy Holiday just killed. Nothing about that looks like fun to Annie.

Suddenly, she’s 14 again. She’s walking home from school. Earlier that day, she got a kid on his back during hand-to-hand combat, but, instead of practicing a kill shot, she offered her hand to help him back to his feet. He slapped her hand away, though.

“Is this a joke to you?” he shouted, pushing himself back up. The groups around them stopped to watch. “I was on my back. You had me. Just take the kill shot, Annie. You gonna stop in the arena to help other tributes to their feet?”

She tried to respond, but the words stuck in her mouth and cemented it shut.

“What’s the use?” he said, mostly to the people around them, when it became clear that she wasn’t going to say anything. Her eyes stung with tears, but she bit her tongue to keep them off her face. “Better hope you don’t get picked, Annie. Or you’re as good as dead.”

Lorian. That was his name.

She sprinted out of the room when the day was done, not even stopping to put her equipment and weapons away. And then the arena’s gone, and she’s out on the street in her 14-year-old body, with the sun beating down on her skin, and the smell of salt and wet sand calling out to her.

But she doesn’t make it to the beach.

“Hey, Annie,” someone calls behind her. Her stomach knots around itself. She turns around and sees Lorian, with a few of his friends.

They don’t even have faces anymore.

“Good job today.” Her voice speaks but she doesn’t say the words. He smiles and they surround her.

“You know, I was thinking,” he begins. His voice is smooth like water over rocks and her dark velvet dress she got from her grandmother. “We should toughen you up.”

And then she’s on the ground, and her stomach aches where he kicked it, and she doesn’t like this part of training. Everything is black and red and that’s all she can remember until a loud crack radiates through her body, and she knows that the arm she wrapped around her stomach is broken.

Somewhere far away, a girl is screaming. It’s me, she thinks, and now that she knows, she can feel the rawness of her throat.

Everything goes black, and then, all at once, the darkness melts back into the arena. She stands on shaking legs and edges her way towards the mouth of the cornucopia, keeping her back plastered to the warm metal. Everywhere she looks, there are bodies, and smears of blood, and even various human parts.

Several people are still fighting, but it’s mostly the rest of the Careers taking care of those left in the clearing. A lot of the tributes have already made it to the woods. Even as she watches, Romana sneaks up on another girl and swings her sword in a wide arc. The girl’s head flies off her body, which crumples to the ground, blood gushing from the neck. Romana turns and shouts something at Annie, but she can only hear her own heart pounding in her chest.

Is that how I’m going to die? she wonders. Will I just fall to the ground so easily, while everything I ever was disappears? Is that how Romana will die? Or Hera? Or Sebastian? Her stomach lurches at the thought. Sebastian. Where is he? Could he already be dead on the ground somewhere nearby, with blood pouring out from where his head used to be? She can’t accept that. She has to find him.

Turning toward the mouth of the cornucopia, Annie forces her stiff legs into a jog. She doesn’t even have a weapon yet. Finnick must be going crazy by now.

No, she can’t think about Finnick.

After what feels like an eternity, she rounds the corner. The first thing she sees is a pile of weapons, with a set of throwing knives right on top that must be meant for her. Or they are now. She loops the strap holding them around her waist and turns to see Titus chasing down a girl with dark skin who must be about half his size. The girl is faster, but she trips, and he almost slices her right in half with a sword that looks too heavy for any human to carry. She screams when the blade hits her, but it doesn’t last long. Titus runs off in the same direction Romana did.

She stares at the dead girl, feeling like her blood has turned to lead in her veins. Maybe she won’t bleed when they try to kill her. Her blood is solid now, and they will stab her a million times and she’ll just laugh and run away and leave them all to kill each other.

“ANNIE!” she hears behind her, and then something sharp hits her arm. It cuts through her jacket like air and bites into her skin before it’s jerked away, leaving a gaping hole in fabric and flesh. “ANNIE!” the person calls again, and Sebastian is running full speed toward her while yet another girl is suddenly before her. This one is from 7, maybe, and she’s holding a spear covered in blood.

It can’t be her blood, though, because her blood is metal now.

The spearhead narrowly misses her face. She jumps back, arm throbbing, and reaches for one of the knives on her belt. Before she can even think her final thoughts, a long blade juts out from the girl’s stomach. She looks down at it curiously until it pulls up through her body. There’s a short pause, and the girl collapses to the ground, blood spilling out of her like water from a sink. Annie looks, wide-eyed, to Sebastian.

“Annie,” he says, his voice hoarse. He steps over the body and grabs her arm. “This looks bad.”

Then the moment catches up with her and pain rips through her entire muscle, down to the bone, and shoots all the way from her shoulder to her fingertips. A moan of pain escapes her lips. She clutches her arm and sinks to the ground.

“Too soon,” she murmurs, blood seeping out between her fingers. Her entire arm is drenched in it now. Sebastian’s face is in front of hers. His mouth is moving, his eyes wide with panic, but she can’t hear him. She doesn’t know how much blood she’s lost. Maybe all of it at this point.

Then it’s not Sebastian in front of her, it’s Finnick. He ties something around her arm and brushes her hair out of her face.

“You’re going to be okay,” he tells her.

“Finnick….”

He furrows his eyebrows.

“She’s lost a lot of blood.” When he moves his mouth, Hera’s voice speaks. “We need to act—“

He cuts himself off and glances to the sky. A bright silver orb floats down to them through the air. It whirrs softly, as relaxing as it is unsettling. A breeze kicks up and Annie shudders. Or maybe there’s no breeze and everything is just cold now. Annie’s aware that her eyes are open, but she can’t see anything.

“She’s white as a sheet,” someone says.

“I know. Give me the salve.”

“Hera,” she murmurs.

“I’m here. This’ll hurt, I’m sorry.”

“Finnick?” she asks.

“Yeah, he sent this parachute. You’re going to be okay. Just relax.”

“Finnick,” she says again.

Then something liquid and sticky jams into her wound. Annie screams, she feels the liquid oozing into her veins, and then the blackness sweeps her back up.

Somewhere in the background, someone yells her name. Then nothing but the blackness.


	10. 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annie struggles in the arena.

The silver parachute drifts down, almost serenely, to the girl from District 3. Hera. Her name is Hera. She catches and immediately pries it open, pulling out the little container of medicine.

Finnick always liked the parachutes, as much as he could like anything about the arena. They mean security. They mean staying alive for a little while longer. More importantly, though, they mean that someone cares.

He twists the rope in his hands into a knot. The rough little threads catch against his skin, reminding him of his own presence. The end goes through the loop. Wrap it around itself once. Pull tight at both ends. He stares at the unrecognizable tangle in his hands. He ran out of real knots ages ago. He doesn’t even pay attention half the time anymore. The rope just flows between his fingers.

“Woah, hey, Annie, it’s alright!”

His eyes snap back up to the screen. Hera is kneeling on the ground, helping her sit up. She’s shaking. She’s looking wildly around, almost coiling like she’s ready to spring away from an attack. She jumps to her feet, reaching for a knife that isn’t there.

“Sebastian.” It’s a question. Hera points to the boy. He’s curled up on the ground, still holding his sword like his life depends on it. Oh, wait, Finnick reminds himself. It does.

“He tried to stay awake for as long as he could, poor kid,” Hera says, half-forcing her off her shaking legs, back onto the ground. “I told him I’d wake him up when you did.”

Hera hands her a canteen and walks over to Sebastian. His blond head pokes up. As soon as he sees her, he’s wide awake, and Finnick feels himself breathe for the first time in… hours? Days? It feels like it’s been a lifetime. It’s almost like that time she saved him from drowning, when….

He picks his rope up off the ground. He hadn’t even noticed when he dropped it. He smoothes out the knot between his hands and begins to work on a real one, to really focus on it. But then he hears her voice, and his eyes are back up to the screen.

“Where are the others?” He should be sending her some kind of message, something to let her know that she shouldn’t look so nervous, but for the moment he’s just relieved to see her conscious.

“Hunting,” Hera tells her, pressing some bread into her hands.

“For food,” Sebastian adds. He seems to be firmly planted at her side now that they’re both awake. Finnick’s cheeks burn white hot before he remembers who he is and who she is. He adds another loop to his knot.

Overall, he’d have to call himself grateful for Hera and Sebastian. Hera is Beetee’s tribute. Anyone trained by him is always more than capable in the arena, but she’s also smart on her own. Sebastian may not be the brightest, but he’s a fighter, and he’s also invested in her. Her….

“Cresta,” he murmurs, and flings his rope to the ground, so he can bury his face in his hands.

He’s not even sure, at this point, how long it’s been since he last slept. Definitely not since she went into the arena. Maybe not even before…. His cheeks burn again. He can’t think about that night, or her, not in that way.

Even if she makes it out of there alive, he’s still Finnick Odair. He’s property of the Capitol, and no one else. He can’t ever forget that.

A hand on his shoulder pulls him out of his train of thought, and he doesn’t have to turn to know it’s Mags. Her hand has been on his shoulder since he was a kid. He turns his head to look at the only parent he’s ever known.

She smoothes her hand down his cheek and points vaguely behind her, towards the door that leads down a long hall to the mentors’ rooms.

“I’m not tired,” he says. He weirdly isn’t. He hasn’t slept in days, at least, but he feels wide awake.

“You are.” He looks up from where he’s sitting, just in time to see Mena crouch down to his level. “You’re exhausted. Look, they’re both fine. It’s barely even the end of the first day.”

He glances back up at the screen. There’s now a good-sized fire at their campsite. The other careers have returned, and are now roasting a few small animals for dinner.

“I can’t go,” he says, slowly and quietly. “What if something happens?”

“They’re all in a group now,” Mena says. “None of the other tributes will try anything tonight. You know that. And if something does happen, we’ll handle it.”

She smiles her big, fake, bubbly Capitol smile. It’s the only way Mena knows how to be comforting. But it just makes Finnick feel worse.

He looks back to Mags, who’s looking at him like he’s ten again and refusing to eat his carrots. He’s seen that look a million and a half times. When he was little, he thought it just meant he was in trouble, but after he became a mentor, too, he understood. She’s not trying to be scary, and she doesn’t want to punish him or anything. She’s worried. He lifts the corner of his mouth in a vague attempt to smile and puts his hand, gently, on her shoulder.

“Okay,” he says. “I’ll get some sleep. But I’m not going to the room. I’m staying right here. And if anything happens during the night, wake me up.”

Mena rolls her eyes, but Mags pats his cheek.

She isn’t speaking today, which drags him, however momentarily, out of the quickly darkening arena. Ever since her stroke, her speech has been hit or miss. Sometimes she speaks almost normally, sometimes she barely says a word. It’s been a long time since she’s had a day like this, though, where she doesn’t say anything. She’s nervous about something, or upset.

Finnick hugs his knees up to his chest and rests his forehead against his legs. The anthem starts playing over the speakers. Six cannons go off. He looks up, one last time, at the screen, at her face gazing up at the sky. He watches her eyes darken as each passing tribute is projected once more across the arena and every side screen in the room he’s in. Her whole face stiffens.

Now she looks like a Career, he thinks, before his head hits his knees and he’s asleep at long last.

The next morning comes quickly and too bright, after a dreamless sleep, as usual. Finnick is sprawled across three seats. His ribs ache when he pushes himself up into a sitting position. He can barely even move his neck. He’s just slept more than he has in a long time, but he still feels exhausted. More than exhausted. It’s like every part of his body is exhausted. It’s seeped down into his bones, and, weirdly enough, keeps him awake at night.

Finnick tries to stretch, but just ends up curling his legs into his chest again. His body hurts a little less in this position. He props his chin on his knees and looks around the room for the first time, really, since arriving.

It’s early, or maybe really late, but either way, the floor is mostly empty. Rows upon rows of plush seats wind around a huge twelve-sided screen that makes up the center of the room. There are several large benches toward the back of the room, which Finnick wishes he’d seen when he was falling asleep. A long aisle cuts between the seating areas for 6 and 7, leading back to the mentors’ borrowed rooms. There’s an identical aisle between 1 and 2 that leads to the main entrance. Mena is clicking her way down that aisle now, balancing three large cylindrical containers in her arms. A large glass ceiling fills the room with light that is most likely not natural. The entire back wall is lined with banquet tables that are all full, right to the edge, with rich Capitol foods.

The room is nicer than last year’s. They didn’t even get padded chairs last year. It still puts a knot in Finnick’s stomach, though. It always does. He hates these waiting rooms. He hates having to fight so hard to keep people alive when they shouldn’t even be in danger in the first place. Most of all, though, he hates talking to the sponsors. Almost every single one is also one of his clients. Being forced to see them makes it very hard to pretend that they don’t actually exist.

He can suck it up this year, though. He can fight his instinct to scream until they leave. He can do it all for her… for Cresta… for….

He looks up at the screen in front of him. They’re capable of splitting into about eight different screens, but his is still whole. And, sure enough, there she is, still asleep, between Hera and Sebastian, clutching her injured arm. He lets out a deep breath that he doesn’t remember taking.

“Good morning,” Mena titters, sitting beside him. “Are you feeling better after getting some sleep?”

“Mostly,” he lies, rubbing his neck. She shoves one of the containers into his hands.

“Maybe that’ll help. It has a lot of sugar, don’t worry.”

He pulls the lid off, and the familiar smell of coffee floats up into his face.

“I needed this,” he says, taking a long sip. “Thank you.”

They sit silently for awhile, both drinking their coffee and watching their tributes wake up. Cresta makes breakfast for the Careers, meaning she passes out chunks of bread and whole huge apples that Cashmere managed to get from a sponsor yesterday. He watches her stretch out her arm and move it into awkward angles to test its limits.

“Way better this morning,” she says to Hera. “That stuff you put on it is awesome. Why isn’t that standard issue in the Districts?”

Finnick presses his fingertips into his forehead and shakes his head.

“Did she just say that?” Mena asks, dropping the Capitol act for once.

“She makes my job so damn hard sometimes,” he says with a groan.

Luckily for all of them, Hera is smarter. Or at least more tactful.

“Hey,” she says, turning to the rest of the group, pulling Cresta with her. “What’s the plan for today? Are we hunting for more food or what? There’s got to be bigger animals in this forest.”

The boy from 1 looks at her like she just suggested they all throw down their weapons and surrender.

“Why do we need to hunt for bigger animals?” he asks. “Small ones at night, sure, so we can keep going, but that’s what sponsors are for. They send us things we need. Namely better food than we’ll find in here.”

“It’s not a bad idea to at least look for food sources around here, though,” Hera says. “I mean, you can’t just count on sponsors to get you through this.”

“Maybe you can’t,” the girl from 2 says, shouldering past her. “Come on, guys. Let’s go get rid of some of the competition.”

The rest of the Careers follow after her.

“Come on, Annie,” Sebastian calls over his shoulder, but she’s hanging back with Hera. She picks up her belt of knives and straps it around her waist.

“Come on,” Hera says, gently. “They’re jerks, but we should still stick with them.”

She nods, and the two girls jog to catch up with the rest of the group.

“It’s going to be a long day,” Finnick murmurs, stretching back in his seat.

“Are you talking to sponsors again today?” Mena asks.

“Probably not.” He watches as she walks through the woods, one hand running along her knife belt cautiously. “We’ll watch her today, see how her arm heals, and make a judgment call in a few hours. I think she’ll be alright though. Even now, her arm is a little stiff, but it doesn’t look like it hurts anymore.”

“Where’s Mags?” Mena blurts out. She probably barely heard a word he said. He scans the room anyway.

“She must still be asleep.” He knits his fingers together to keep from picking at his nails. That isn’t good. Usually Mags is up early. Earlier than this, at least. She’s getting worse, he thinks.

Like Finnick didn’t have enough to worry about already.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Six people were dead by the time Annie woke up this morning. How many more will die today? Romana and Titus practically skip ahead through the woods. With all the noise they’re making, they may not even find any camps. Or so she hopes.

She stretches her arm back and forward again. The stabbing pain is down to a dull ache. What was a mangled mess of bone and muscle yesterday is a big swollen lump today. The medicine Finnick got her is beyond amazing, it’s miraculous. She’ll have to find a way to thank him before she dies in the arena. She just wishes she could thank him in person….

Before her mind can wander to the last time she was alone with Finnick, a practiced bird call from one of the others reminds her of where she is.

Someone found a camp.

Annie silently ducks down and runs forward, following the call, until it brings her face to face with Holiday.

“I think they’re from Twelve,” she whispers. “Look.”

She moves aside a few branches near the top of the bush in front of them so Annie can look into their camp. It’s just two kids. They both have dark olive-toned skin and black hair. She can’t hear them, but they’re both gesturing up into the trees.

“They’re discussing how to make shelter up there,” Annie whispers.

Holiday nods, only half-listening. They sit in silence for a few moments. Annie can’t see any of the others. She hasn’t seen Sebastian in hours, maybe. Not since they started walking. He went ahead with Ivory to scout. She stayed back with Hera.

“Okay,” Holiday finally says, turning to her. “I’ll give a signal, we all move in. Ivory is on the other side of the camp. He knows what—“

But apparently he didn’t know what. Before Holiday can even finish explaining her plan, Annie hears two screams, a handful of shouts, two cannons, and then nothing. Holiday stands and walks straight into the camp, over the bodies of the tributes from 12.

“Two for one!” Ivory woops, wiping his bloody sword on his pants.

“You stupid idiot,” Holiday snaps, shoving him hard. “We agreed, you’ll all follow my lead. You damn moron.”

“There were only two of them, bitch,” Ivory yells back, and he pushes her to the ground. “We didn’t have to sneak around. You may be here to play hide and seek with the other tributes, but I’m here to win.”

He offers her his hand and a smirk, like either of those things would be helpful to her. She slaps his hand aside and stands up.

“There could’ve been more. Do you remember the whole other group out to get us? We don’t know how many Districts are in that group, Ivory. Next time, wait for my signal. That means I’m sure we have the upper hand. Got it?”

He nods. His mouth is a thin line, his face bright red.

Annie watches as the blood spreads from both bodies, eventually becoming one large puddle, soaking into the dirt. She only half-listens as Ivory and Holiday yell at each other some more. Sebastian, eventually, is right next to her, wrapping an arm around her, telling her things she doesn’t hear. She just watches the blood pool spread in a slow circle until she hears her name.

“What?” she asks.

“What do you think we should do?” Holiday asks. Her face is flushed, and her hands are on her hips.

“We split up,” Annie says, keeping her eyes on the blood. “Just for today. We have to know what the arena has in store, at least roughly. We meet at the Cornucopia at sunset.”

Where did that idea come from? It bubbled out of her, like it was there the whole time. Holiday nods.

“Alright. Two groups. Ivory and Two, and I’m with you three.” She gestures to Annie, who’s flanked by Sebastian and Hera.

“Why don’t we do three groups?” Ivory asks. “By District. More or less,” he adds with a nod to Hera.

“Because there’s safety in numbers,” Holiday snaps. “Do you really want to argue this?”

Ivory shakes his head.

“Alright!” She claps her hands together. “You three go that way.” She points South. Or, at least, Annie thinks it’s South. “We’ll go the other way.”

They all nod awkwardly at each other, making promises to meet up in a few hours, and then the group splits apart.

The day is excruciatingly hot. Holiday and Hera strip off their jackets and tie them around their waists. Sebastian strips down to his bare chest. Annie keeps her jacket on, though she isn’t sure why. They walk for several hours and see only trees. Eventually, Holiday stops for a break and some lunch.

“How’s the arm?” Hera asks, sitting next to Annie and handing her a piece of bread. It’s soft and grainy and small. Maybe from District 3. Annie takes a bite. It’s semi-sweet and oddly filling.

“It’s alright,” she answers, finally pulling off her jacket. “It’s not fully better, but at least I can do this now.”

She rotates her arm in a big circle, wincing when her hurt muscles work. Nothing reopens, though, which Annie takes as a good sign.

“I should still put some more medicine on you,” Hera says, and Annie complies. She holds her arm out, resting her hand on Hera’s shoulder, who is pulling the little bottle of medicine from her backpack, when the cannons go off.

Two, right in a row, like the ones when Ivory killed the tributes from 12. Holiday is on her feet, right away, and sliding her sword back into its sheath.

“What was that?” Sebastian asks. “You don’t think it was the others, do you?”

“I hope not,” Holiday replies. “Come on, let’s keep going.”

Hera slips the medicine back into her backpack, and they all shoulder their packs to move on. After a couple more hours of nothing but trees, they come to a steep hill.

“There’s something at the top,” Holiday says. “A wall or something. Come on.”

Hera readjusts her backpack and starts after the blonde girl.

“You can wait here if you want,” Sebastian murmurs. “You should probably rest anyway, so your arm heals faster.”

“I’ve been walking all day,” Annie says with a small laugh. “This little hill isn’t going to kill me.”

It takes half an hour to climb to the top of it. Hera and Holiday are already there, taking long gulps of water, when Sebastian and Annie finally make it. The area at the top is flat and devoid of trees, but still in the shade because of the massive wall in front of them.

“What is it?” Annie asks, craning her neck to see the top, then looking to each side of the structure. “I think there’s a ladder that leads up it. Over there.”

“One of us should climb it,” Holiday says. “See what’s up there. I’ll go.”

“I’ll go with you,” Annie replies. Sebastian and Hera both jump to disagree.

“Your arm.”

“Annie, you’ll just strain it. It’s almost healed. Just let the medicine do it’s work.”

“Your arm!” Sebastian repeats.

“Stay here,” Hera tells her. “One of us will go with Holiday.”

“I can go,” Annie says, looking into both of their faces. “I’m not helpless. I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?” Sebastian asks. Annie shrugs and looks into the sky.

“Maybe, with any luck,” she yells, “my mentor will get me some more medicine for when I get back.”

She smirks, and then turns to the ladder. Holiday is already about ten feet up.

“Hurry up, mermaid girl,” she calls down. “Unless fish can’t climb.”

She laughs at her own joke and keeps going. Annie starts up the ladder. She winces every time she reaches her arm up to grab another rung. By the time she’s halfway up, her shoulder is screaming at her.

“I should’ve listened to Hera,” she mumbles to herself, but keeps going. After awhile, she reaches the top. Her shoulder is throbbing.

“They were right,” she says to Holiday, trying to laugh it off. “I’ll be alright, though.”

Holiday doesn’t say anything, though, for once, and when Annie glances up, she sees why.

The concrete wall is holding back what looks like an entire lake of clear, glassy water. They can see the whole arena. It’s a bowl of mountains, stretching in a circle around them. The forest seems much smaller from up here. They can see the Cornucopia, the clearing around it still stained brown with dry blood.

Holiday doesn’t take her wide eyes off the water, though.

“It’s a dam,” she whispers, sitting on the edge of it.

“Are you okay?” Annie asks.

“I don’t know how to swim,” Holiday replies. “I’ve never seen this much water.”

Annie realizes she’s afraid. How strange, she thinks. I can’t imagine being afraid of water.

“Should we go back down?” she suggests, hoping that’ll help take Holiday’s mind off the lake. The blonde girl nods, stands up, adjusts her pack, and goes back to the ladder.

Climbing down is a lot easier, as long as Annie doesn’t look down. It feels like a few seconds before her feet are back on the dirt and Hera is grabbing a new silver parachute from midair to ice and clean and wrap Annie’s slightly swollen shoulder.

“This is a dam,” she says to Hera and Sebastian while Holiday drinks down half her water. “It looks like a whole lake is trapped behind it.”

Hera frowns but doesn’t say anything.

“Well, there’s no use standing around here doing nothing,” Holiday gasps after finishing her whole canteen. “It’s almost sunset. Let’s get to the Cornucopia.”

They move quickly down the hill, and towards the center of the arena. Strands of hair are plastered to Annie’s forehead with sweat. The trees cast huge, strange shadows across the ground. They grow larger as the sun shrinks away behind them. Holiday walks just a few feet away from her, but neither of them says anything. Annie saw her scared today, and that’s clearly never okay for someone from District 1. Sebastian is somewhere behind them, breaking lots of sticks and crunching rocks with his heavy footfalls. Hera is right in front of them. Her hair swings back and forth in its ponytail with every step she takes. Her bow is in her hand, an arrow ready to fly at any moment should it need to.

The trees begin to thin just ahead. Annie can see more light, and even a few glimmers between the trees. Two birds call to each other. Annie almost smiles.

“We’re almost there,” she says. She starts to walk faster, but Hera shoves her to the ground.

“WATCH OUT,” she yells, and then the arrow flies right into the heart of a tribute who was running right to them, ax in hand. They hit the ground hard and fast, any noise covered up by the cannon going off. Holiday jogs to catch up with Hera and see who their would-be killer was. Something is off about this scene, though.

“But why do that?” Annie asks out loud. Why attack a group of Careers, head on, when the tribute was alone? The hairs stand up on the back of her neck and she pulls a knife from the belt around her waist. She wheels around. Sebastian is sitting down and stretching out his legs.

“What’s going on?” he calls to her, and then everything happens at once.

A shadow moves from behind a tree, gliding quickly towards Sebastian, who doesn’t see it. Someone screams his name. The knife flies from Annie’s hand.


	11. Her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finnick reflects on how he got to this point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: descriptions of sexual abuse, suicidal ideations/attempts, graphic violence

The rope glides through his fingers. It’s basically an extension of his arm by now. He can’t even remember the last Games where he didn’t have a rope in his pocket at all times.

Before he won them. That was the last time.

The rope used to be covered in snags and loose strands, but those have all been smoothed out by his hands over the past five years. Five years. That’s a long time to be playing with the same piece of rope.

It serves a purpose, though. It keeps him balanced. It keeps him distracted. It keeps him in the moment. Most importantly, it keeps him alive. There have been a few times where the rope stopped working, and, well….

Finnick Odair can’t afford to let himself think about those times.

For a long time, he believed nothing would ever change. He’d be used, and sold, and given away like a prize, for his entire life. Or, at the very least, until he wasn’t attractive enough anymore. Knowing the Capitol, though, they’ll prolong that moment for as long as possible. He still belongs to them. He belongs to President Snow.

His first time was bought in an auction when he was 16. Not a public one, of course. A secret one, done in backrooms and off any record. Snow determined the most important, or richest, person at the time, and told Finnick that he would have the pleasure of sleeping with them.

Her. Vera. His first client.

He went through every motion in a state of absolute discomfort. After awhile, he stopped thinking about it. He left his body. He let biology take over and run its course. After, she gave him a gold chain. He took it and thanked her, then went back home to 4, to cry into Mags’ outstretched arms.

Cashmere once told him it gets easier. It starts to become muscle memory. It’s easier to check out and let the clients do what they want and then go on like it never happened. The opposite was true for Finnick, though. Each client dragged him just a little further down a deep, dark hole. At first he tried to pull himself back out. That got harder every time, though. Eventually, he just made himself a home at the bottom of this hole.

Only on the inside, though. On the outside, he was not this broken creature with the same name as the handsome young victor. No, on the outside, he was and is Finnick Odair. The Finnick Odair. Proud, cocky, cunning, manipulative, smart, clever. That’s what the people want from him. So that’s what the people get.

No matter how many interviews he did, though, no matter how many people he let touch him and kiss him and ride him, he still lived at the bottom of that hole.

He was there when he met her. The sweet girl with dark hair who didn’t even want to punch him. When she did, and it actually hurt, and she cried, his first thought was, Maybe there is something good in this world. His second was, Please never let this girl end up in the Arena.

He left that day thinking about her. Her concerned face and rushed apology helped him get to sleep at night. Later that week, he saw her at the market. Ever since then, he made an effort to see her whenever he was in town.

That, of course, was one of the dumbest things Finnick has ever done. He didn’t need more people to put in danger. He didn’t need more people to care about, or worry about. More friends just means more clients. More people to protect. He couldn’t help it, though. She didn’t care that he was Finnick Odair. She still doesn’t. It was such a genuine, kind thing. One he hadn’t felt since he won his Games. So he let her in, and got to know her.

For her safety, though, he never called her by her name. It was always Cresta. It’s always been Cresta. If he were to call her by her first name, then he would truly let her in. Then she’d really be in danger. He couldn’t let that happen.

He almost used her name when she saved his life. When he jumped from that cliff, hoping a rock would crack his head open and make it look like an accident, but she was there. Of course she was there. He blacked out almost as soon as he hit the water. None of the rocks had done what he asked, and she saved him. He’s positive that she doesn’t know she actually wrecked his plan to get out of this horrible life of nightmares.

He remembers gratitude, though. He remembers coming to on the beach, coughing up water, and seeing her face, and feeling grateful. He never thanked her for that, even.

As he walked home, he thought to himself, Please, please, let her never be in the Arena.

That thought fizzled out though, because of her. Because she couldn’t let a 12-year-old face the Arena. He almost broke on stage when he saw her running up, nearly tripping on her dress. He almost ran up to push her back into the crowd, but it was too late. She was onstage, and the 12-year-old was gone.

He thought about visiting her, right before the train ride, but then Mags went, and he knew that would be good enough. He’d have time to see her. He’d have time to say the things he never said.

He watched her struggle in the training room. Watched her panic her way through the tribute parade. He watched as she got one of the highest scores out of the entire group, and he was impressed. Apparently some part of training did settle into her. Even if she doesn’t want to hurt people, her body absorbed every action.

That was the first time he thought that she could win this.

Until her interview, when she said… when she said what she said.

He went to Cashmere, that night, of all people. Victors who are sold get the Games off to be mentors, but Cashmere decided not to.

“What does it matter?” she’d told him when he asked why she didn’t take the time off. “I get time off to watch children kill each other, just to go back to the beds of the Capitol’s finest a week later? Who cares? The Games pass faster this way. So, if people want me, they can have me.”

She’d seen a client that night, and it was a client Finnick knew well.

Vera.

Vera is in the inner circle. The political elite of Panem. Finnick was always her favorite, but she also has a preference for Cashmere.

Cashmere told him everything Vera had hissed while her head was trapped between her legs. Snow didn’t like Cresta’s little message. And whatever Snow doesn’t like, doesn’t live long, especially in the Arena.

He shouldn’t have warned her. He shouldn’t have gone back. He shouldn’t have said anything. But, as he rode the elevator from the first floor to the fourth, he thought to himself, She needs to live. She needs to know.

She kissed him that night. And he kissed her back. She tasted like home. Like salt and sea air. Just for a moment, he lost himself on that balcony. He forgot who he was and where they were. Then he remembered. He is Finnick Odair. He belongs to the Capitol. No one else. He pushed her away and ran off. Just another thing to add to the list….

He watched as she narrowly survived the bloodbath. He watched her delayed start, her shock at seeing the boy from 3 take an arrow meant for her. He watched her freeze against the Cornucopia, and he watched the girl from 7 stab her in the arm. A few inches over, the spear would’ve hit her chest. Just a few inches and she would’ve been dead on the ground that first day.

Finnick did what he does best then. He charmed and schmoozed his way through the sponsors. Her late start became a hesitation. Time to think of a plan. Time to take in her surroundings. It can be very stressful when you first enter the arena, trust him. She’ll warm up soon and become the Victor you can all cheer for.

He got her medicine that day. Lots of it. He watched as Hera slathered the cream on and tended to the wound. He watched and tied his rope and did nothing while she lay there, dying.

He watched her heal. He watched her wake up. He watched her walk on. He watched her stare at dead bodies. He watched her climb a dam, even with a hurt arm. He watched Sebastian cling to her like a puppy, and thought, She could live through this.

Now he watches her horrified face as she lets go of a knife and it sticks, perfectly, into another tribute’s neck. The tribute, the girl from 9, hits the ground, coughing out torrents of blood, and then the cannon goes off.

Cresta’s first kill.

“Don’t fall apart,” he murmurs. “Please keep it together.”

To his relief, she shudders, but her face remains blank.

“Sebastian,” she says. Her voice is darker than normal. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he says, standing up from the rock he was sitting on. “Are you--?”

“I’m fine,” she snaps, and that’s the end of the discussion.

Hera runs up, with the girl from 1. Holiday.

“What happened?” Hera asks. “We heard the cannon, I thought—“

“We’re fine,” she says. “Which District was this?”

“Nine,” Hera answers her.

“They must have tried to do a sneak attack,” she says. She walks up to the girl and pulls her knife out. One last spurt of blood squirts across Cresta’s boot. “Distract us from the front while the other attacked from behind. We should keep moving.”

The other three only gape at her.

“You heard her,” Holiday slowly agrees. “Let’s go.”

He watches her meet up with the others at the Cornucopia. He watches them replenish some supplies and discuss what they all saw. He watches them decide on a watch schedule, light a fire, and settle in for the night. He hears the anthem, and watches as Tributes’ faces flash in the sky above her.

The girl from 6, who the girl from 2 cut down in one stroke from her sword. Both Tributes from 9. The boy from 10, who the boy from 2 beheaded. Both from 12.

“It’s been two days, and half of them are dead,” Mena chimes somewhere next to him. He shakes his head and picks up his fallen rope. Mags is holding his hand. He doesn’t even know how long they’ve been like that.

“That’s pretty typical,” he mumbles. “They like to get the obvious deaths over with in the first few days.”

“Finnick, you made it sound like these Games have been decided.” He looks at Mena. He knows she knows. He knows she’s smarter than she acts. She has to be. Even as he looks at her, he sees a smirk cross her lips. A shadow passes her face.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Mena,” he says, matching her expression. “These Games just started.”

Sometimes he gets Mena. She’s smart and knows exactly how horrible all this is. He sometimes wonders why she got into this business. Maybe it was family pressure. Maybe she was like him: An excited kid ready to be in the Games, but not knowing a thing about what it really means.

Sometimes he despises Mena, because she knows, but she doesn’t do anything. She allows everything to happen. She knows how awful it is to send children into the Arena, she knows about the Victors being sold, and she does nothing. She just plays her part. As long as she gets her nice clothes and her wigs, it doesn’t seem to matter to her.

She chats on for awhile before deciding to turn in. She clicks down the long aisle to the front entrance. Sometimes he forgets that Mena lives here, in the Capitol, and can go home every night. He almost envies that.

When half the Careers are safely asleep, Cresta included, he lets himself relax a little. She’s survived two days. She’s recovering from a horrible injury, yes, but she’s also killed a person. He can work with that.

Now that it’s night in the Arena, a lot of the mentors start to let their hair down. Normally, Finnick would go join them, or at least some of them, but tonight he wants to sit by himself. Mags pats his arm and goes off to bed. Some of the mentors look lost. The ones from 7 and 9, whose Tributes are both dead now. They have to stay, though, until the Games are over.

Haymitch, the lone Victor from 12, likes to loudly celebrate the deaths of his Tributes with two bottles of white alcohol.

“One for each Tribute!” he exclaims, bowing to Cashmere and Gloss while stumbling around the room. A few mentors laugh half-heartedly. They all know what it’s like, though.

Haymitch finds Finnick in the crowd and stumbles over to him, offering one of his bottles when he plants himself into the seat next to him.

“No, thanks,” Finnick says, waving a hand.

“You sure? You look like you could use a drink.”

“Really, I’m fine. Thank you.”

Haymitch takes another swig and points at Finnick.

“You have an interesting one this year,” he says. “And it doesn’t really help that you’re in love with her.”

“I’m not—“

“Save it for Snow, pretty boy,” he slurs. “I’ve never seen a mentor so dedicated to getting a Tribute out alive. Forget your job, you’re fighting for her like your life depends on it.”

“Really, I don’t—“

“Oh yeah?” Haymitch challenges. “Alright. Then why have you been tying knots for the past two days?”

“It’s a habit I picked up during my Games,” Finnick answers, shrugging. “It keeps my nerves away, especially at night. Helps me be not afraid.”

“In five years, I’ve never seen you with a piece of rope. You’re usually around this room making friends and using that Capitol charm that they love so much. Now you’re huddled in your section tying knots? You’re not dying, Odair.”

“I know,” Finnick whispers. And then it hits him. He looks up at the screen and watches her sleeping uneasily, with her hand clenched around a knife. He doesn’t want this to be way he last sees her. He wants her to be alive. That seems impossible at the moment. “She is, though.”

Haymitch lets out a low whistle and offers the bottle back to Finnick. He declines again, and the Lone Victor shrugs before taking another long sip.

“There’s a long list of stupid things you could’ve done with your life,” he says. “Falling in love with a Tribute is probably at the top of that list.”

“Really, Haymitch, I don’t—“

“I know,” he says, pushing himself to his feet. “Keep telling yourself that.”

He begins to shuffle away, but something makes Finnick stop him. A flash. A memory. Cresta’s Capitol-soft lips on his. Her gentle touches. Running his hands through her tangled brown hair.

“Haymitch?” He turns back. “Say I did… have some sort of feelings for my Tribute. What do I do from there?”

“Only thing you can,” he answers. He takes another swig and walks away.


	12. The Canyon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Career group goes to explore part of the arena and meets some obstacles along the way.

The next day dawns bright and cold, and Annie’s first thought is of the girl she killed. She spent the night tossing and turning on the ground, watching the knife leave her hand and go into the girl’s throat, hearing the cannon, and smelling the iron tang of the blood when she went to recover her knife. She almost lost it then, but she didn’t. She thought about Finnick, fighting to get her sponsors. Falling apart would make that harder, and she had decided to live. At least for a little bit longer.

Long enough to make sure Sebastian gets home. If she goes home, she’ll be broken. She’ll be an absolute mess. She’ll be haunted by the face of the girl from District 9 for the rest of her life. Sebastian could live, though. He could go on and have a decently normal life. As normal as it can be for a Victor. He’ll be the Victor that Panem wants to see. She’ll be the broken mess. The crazy girl from 4.

She’d honestly rather be dead than be famous for that.

Just after she thinks that, though, Finnick breaks through into her mind, from the night they kissed. She tastes sugar and Capitol perfumes and her heart beats a little faster, like it’s reminding her why she wants to live.

But she can’t think about Finnick like that. He’s her mentor, and that’s all he can be.

She stretches her arms up and out. Her injury is down to a dull ache today.

“Hera,” she says. Her voice is scratchy from sleep.

“Hm?” Hera, of course, is already awake. She’s re-stringing her bow in front of the crude map she drew in the dirt last night.

“My arm feels great,” Annie offers, crawling over to sit next to her.

“Good, yeah,” Hera says. “Look at this.”

She finishes with her bow and uses it to point to the far end of the map.

“The canyon?”

“Yes. Do you see where it is?”

“It’s on the exact opposite side of the arena from the dam.”

“Yeah. At least I think so. That’s where Romana and them were pointing, but they could’ve gotten turned around.”

“What’s your point?” Annie asks, reaching for a canteen from the little pile they made for 3 and 4.

“I want to go look for this canyon today,” Hera says, stretching out her bow to test it. “I want to see where it is and how big it is. I need you to say it’s your idea, though.”

“What? Why me?”

“Because you got one of the highest scores. You’re one of the favorites. You killed someone yesterday. You’re the only one of us who Holiday listens to. And they all listen to her. Plus, you’ve lived through a life-threatening injury.”

“That’s because of Finnick,” Annie says, his name catching in her throat a little. She coughs to cover it up. “He got me good sponsors and stuff like that.”

“That’s exactly my point,” Hera argues. “Your very first gift was, what, half an hour into the Games? And it was some of the best medicine in the country. You’re valuable, Annie. So will you help me out?”

Annie looks at the girl from 3. There are flecks of gold in her brown eyes, gone wide under her knit eyebrows. Her hair is starting to fray from lack of brushing and washing, but it’s still shiny and curly. She’s very attractive. She’s smart, she’s strong, and she knows how to survive. She doesn’t just want to see the canyon. Hera is pleading with her, but she’s also planning something.

“What’s your idea?” Annie asks.

“What?”

“You have a plan here, right? Why do you want to look at this canyon?”

Hera stares directly into her eyes for a long moment. She sets her bow to the side and moves herself a little closer to Annie.

“I noticed something strange about the dam,” she murmurs. Even the cameras will have a hard time picking up this conversation. “The bottom of it is all dirt. I think it could be rigged up to pop.”

“You mean flood the arena?” Annie asks. Hera nods.

“I mean flood the arena. I want to see the canyon. I want to see how deep it is. I want to see how much water it can hold. I want to see if the water will immediately rush to fill it.”

“Is this the truth?”

“What? Of course. Why wouldn’t I tell you the truth in this?”

“No,” Annie says, immediately jumping to defend her point. “I didn’t mean that you were lying. Just, why actually tell me the truth when you could wipe out every other tribute in a matter of minutes, me included?”

“Because I can’t pull this off alone. And in case I….” Hera’s face goes dark. “In case something happens to me, I want to make sure someone knows how to do this. It should be done, either way.”

“Why does it matter? Why not just wait until we all kill each other?”

“It’s a TV show, Annie. They want to make the biggest splash.”

She actually smirks, and Annie feels the corner of her mouth pull up in half a smile.

“How can you still make jokes in here?” she asks.

“What else am I going to do?” Hera replies, shrugging.

Slowly, one by one, the rest of the group wakes up.

“I’m starving!” Romana calls out. “Where’s the rations?”

Holiday gestures vaguely to the food pile. She looks exhausted. She had last watch this morning. Romana crawls over and eagerly digs in, eating half a loaf of bread before she starts tossing some food to everyone else. Annie ends up with an apple. She eats it slowly.

Sebastian walks over, sits next to her, and offers her a piece of green tinted bread. Annie groans.

“It’s from home!” She grabs the little piece from his hands and takes a tiny bite of it. The taste of salt and seaweed fills her mouth. It’s still chewy, but nice and crusty. “If only we had some shrimp or salted fish. Where did you get this?”

“You got a parachute,” Sebastian says. “Last night, while I was on watch.”

“I was sleeping. It was probably for you.”

He shrugs.

“It’s alright. All of our parachutes so far have been for you. Finnick clearly likes you more, so it makes sense.”

Annie blushes and finishes her apple. Hera nudges her to stand up. Apparently the time to speak to the group is right now.

“Hey!” she calls out. The others don’t even hear her. Hera nudges her again, harder this time.

“Yell it,” she hisses. “Take charge.”

“HEY! EVERYONE!” All their heads snap up. Holiday’s eyes narrow. “I think we should go check out the canyon today.”

“Why?” Ivory yells back. “We were there yesterday. It’s nothing special.”

“It might be good for trapping people. Maybe it’ll make a better base, since no one will think to go down there. I don’t know. The point is, we should go look at it as a group.” Hera and Sebastian stand up and shoulder their weapons, in case there’s any doubt that they’d be with her.

“I like the idea of trapping people,” Titus says, standing up and grabbing his sword.

“I like the idea of pushing people down that cliff,” Romana says. “I said as much yesterday. I’m in.”

Ivory shrugs and stands up. He offers his hand to Holiday, who slaps it out of the way.

“Well, if everyone’s going,” she says. “I would’ve liked to know this plan before you told the whole group, though.”

“Shut up, Holiday,” Ivory snaps. “What does it matter if you’re in charge or not? You didn’t even get the highest score. Mermaid girl did. And she has the best sponsors. Maybe we should listen to her for awhile.”

Holiday’s mouth is a small thin line. Slowly, she stands and grabs her own sword, and walks over to the rest of the group.

“Well, fine,” she says, tossing her blonde ponytail to the side. “Let’s get going.”

They quickly clear the camp and head out. Ivory leads the way. Annie walks right next to him. Holiday and Hera stay a few paces behind them. Sebastian and Titus take up the rear.

The woods are eerily silent today. Yesterday there were a few birds, some random rustling noises from higher branches. Signs of life. Today there’s nothing. Like everything died over night, and now it’s all waiting for the rest of the tributes. Annie shudders.

Ivory chats next to her like nothing is wrong. He probably doesn’t even notice. Annie answers him with short, clipped responses.

“How’s your arm today?”

“Good.”

“Good. That’s good. That was scary, when that happened.”

“Yeah.”

“We all thought you were a goner, but then Hera was pulling parachutes out of the sky like they were apples on trees or something. She patched you up, and everything was alright.”

“Yeah.”

“You’ve got some good friends somewhere, mermaid girl, that’s for sure.”

After a few minutes, she tunes him out. She shifts her hand and shakes it out. She’s had that hand on her knife belt all morning, in case of another sneak attack. She watches the girl from 9 cough up blood again and stops dead in her tracks. Ivory stops with her.

“Hey, what’s--?” he begins, but then he’s screaming.

They all are.

Annie sinks to one knee, and jams her hands over her ears to block out the impossibly loud, high-pitched noise that’s drilling into her head. A shriek of pain is pulled out of her throat. She manages to glance around the group. Blood is trickling between Romana’s fingers, which are pressed against her ears.

What is this noise? Where did it come from? Annie’s brain starts to boil over. She can feel the sound, physically, pressing in on her from all sides. She collapses onto her side and screams louder. _This is it_ , she thinks. _This is how I’m going to die_.

Then it’s over, as soon as it had started.

“What the hell was that?” someone gasps. She doesn’t know who. She can only see the trees around her. Everything is muffled and sounds far away. She realizes her hands are still on her ears and slowly pries them off. Two people groan. There are footsteps. Someone is standing up.

“NO, GET DOWN,” one of the girls screams, and Annie presses her face as much as she can into the ground.

There’s a loud thud. Two sickening cracks. Horrifying screams of pain. Then more shouts, more cries, more sounds of movement. Annie forces herself to sit up. She looks around and her heart sinks.

Sebastian and Titus were the ones who stood up. Now they’re both on the ground, clutching their legs. Sebastian is screaming. Hera is kneeling over him, trying to get him to stop, trying to look at his leg. Titus is poking at the fragment of bone poking through his clothes. He’s not screaming anymore, but his face is white.

And Annie freezes. The others scramble around, trying to figure out what exactly they should do, but Annie doesn’t move until she falls forward onto her hands and knees and throws up the small amount of breakfast she managed to eat. Everything around Sebastian’s screams comes back into focus. Everyone is yelling something.

“What was that?”

“What’s happening?”

“We should move! What if it comes back?”

“WHAT WAS THAT?”

“SOMEONE HELP ME SET THIS LEG.”

The last shout is from Hera. Her voice cuts above everyone else’s. Annie crawls over to her, wiping her mouth as she goes.

“What do you need?” she asks. Her voice is weak and shaking.

“Hold him down,” Hera says. “I have to get his bone back into place, and he won’t stop moving.”

She nods and turns to her District Partner. He’s still screaming.

“Hey,” Annie whispers, pulling Sebastian’s head into her lap. She takes one of his hands. “This is going to hurt a lot, but just squeeze my hand, okay? You won’t get better unless she does this.”

“What’s the point?” he cries, but Annie rubs his face with her shaking hand.

“You’re going to be okay. We have a deal, remember?”

“No.”

“Top six,” she murmurs so only he can hear. “We both have to make it to the top six.”

“And what if I don’t make it? I won’t make it. Just do something, now, kill me. Please, kill me.”

He’s crying. She wipes some of his tears away, but more splash on his face. _They’re mine_ , she realizes. _I’m crying_.

“Shh, you will,” she murmurs. “You’re going home, Sebastian. Remember home?”

“The ocean. Fried fish sold from carts.”

“That’s good. What else?”

She glances over at Hera, who’s propping his leg up with her jacket. She meets Annie’s gaze and nods.

“I found a dead starfish on the beach once,” he gasps. “I gave it to my mom. She still has it.”

“That sounds like a nice gift,” Annie says.

“Alright, Sebastian.” Hera’s voice is steady. So are her hands. Annie can’t stop shaking. “I’m going to count to three. And then I’m going to do this.”

“Just kill me,” Sebastian cries to Annie. There’s another loud crack, followed by Sebastian’s pained shrieking, right into her ear. She bends down and folds her arms around him, holding him until the shock settles in.

Annie helps him lean against a tree, then stands up. Hera is already over with Titus. His jaw is set. He will not scream again, or cry. Romana stands over him, biting her thumbnail. Their faces are equally white. She won’t cry, either, or scream. Holiday and Ivory are rifling through their packs, hoping to find something for Hera.

Annie stands there, feeling useless. She has no real skill with any of this. None of them do, except for Hera. Annie went to a few non-combat stations, but this is all coming naturally to Hera. She wipes her eyes and looks around. What can she do but stand there? What can she do to help?

Her eyes land on Ivory, and she remembers what he said to her earlier.

_You’ve got some good friends somewhere, mermaid girl, that’s for sure_.

“HELP,” she shouts, turning her face toward the sky. “FINNICK, PLEASE.”

Her voice gives out. She doesn’t care, right now, if she looks weak. She doesn’t care what sponsors will think. She looks back as Sebastian. He’s shaking. His face looks drained of blood.

“FINNICK,” she screams again, and then a glint in the sky floats steadily down to her. A matching one lands near Titus. Hera rips into it eagerly and gets back to work on Titus’ leg. Annie pulls her own open. It has two collapsible splints, and a long roll of bandage. There’s also some painkillers, and some more of the salve that saved Annie’s arm. She kneels down next to Sebastian.

“Okay, I don’t know the procedure here,” she says.

“I’m sure you’ll do fine,” he murmurs, barely conscious.

With shaking hands, Annie pulls out some of the painkillers. She forces them into Sebastian’s mouth and pulls off her pack.

“Here,” she says, pushing her own canteen into his hands. She helps him guide the bottle to his mouth. He drinks the entire thing.

“Now you’re out of water,” he says.

“I’ll get more,” she tells him. “I don’t know what to do from here.”

He points toward Hera. Annie glances over to the other group. Ivory and Holiday are handing things to Hera when she asks for them. Romana is standing, silently, behind Titus, with clenched fists. Hera is bent over Titus’ bare leg. His pants are cut, all the way up to his hip.

“Okay,” she says, watching Hera for another moment. “I’m going to have to cut off your pants.”

He actually laughs at that.

“And here I thought you had a thing for Finnick this whole time.”

“Shut up,” she hisses. “This isn’t funny.”

Her cheeks are burning, though, and she rips Sebastian’s pants to the knee. His shin is swollen and dark. Something ticks in her mind. Something one of the instructors said at the first aid station.

_Better hope it’s not the femur._

Annie opens the jar of salve and applies it all along his shin. She doesn’t know where the break is, so she puts it everywhere, from ankle to knee. He winces a little, but then relaxes.

“I think you’re doing this right,” he says. His face says otherwise, but she doesn’t want to argue with him right now.

“I think I know what to do from here.”

She rips open the package with the splints, presses one to each side of his leg, and wraps the roll of bandage all around them.

“Is that it?” he asks.

“I think so. We’ll have Hera check them when she’s done with Titus.”

He nods and settles back against the tree to fall asleep. Annie sits back, hard, and lets out a breath she doesn’t remember taking.

She looks back to the others. Hera is sewing up Titus’ leg. The other three stand there and watch with wide eyes. After a few minutes, Hera wipes the back of her hand across her forehead, leaving a long smear of blood. She grabs a bandage roll from Holiday and wraps it around Titus’ entire thigh.

“That’s all I can do for now,” she says. “He should be okay. Make sure he doesn’t move. I’ll set the splints when we get back.”

“Back?” Romana snaps. “Back from where? Where the hell do you think you’re going at a time like this?”

“I want to see the canyon,” Hera says. “He’s stable. He’ll be fine while I’m gone. Don’t worry. It won’t take long.”

“No.” When she says the word, Annie notices for the first time just how big the girl from 2 is. She flicks her dark ponytail from one shoulder to the other and crosses the ground to point a finger in Hera’s chest. They’re almost even in height, but Romana seems to tower over her. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“Yes she is,” Annie says without realizing it. “We’re here to see the canyon. We’re going to see the canyon. Titus will be fine. He just needs to rest for now.”

Romana turns to look at Annie, who feels like a shrimp being cornered by a shark. Her piercing eyes look her up and down. Annie puts a hand on the same knife that killed the girl from 9 just yesterday.

“Fine,” she spits. “Go find your stupid canyon.”

“We’re bringing Ivory,” Hera blurts. “He knows how to get there, and you should stay with Titus. And keep an eye on Sebastian.”

“I’ve got that,” Holiday says, faintly. “I’ll watch him.”

Her eyes lock on Annie’s and she nods. Annie nods back.

“We’re close,” Ivory says. “It won’t take long.”

Hera pulls out her canteen. She rubs some water between her hands and dumps some over her head. Annie and Ivory shoulder their packs.

“We’ll be back before you know it,” Hera tells Romana, pulling on her own pack. “He’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”

Annie glances back at Sebastian, still asleep against the tree, one last time before turning to Hera and Ivory. They all nod at each other, shakily, and Ivory starts walking down the right path.

It’s a short walk, really, or maybe it just feels short, because none of them are really thinking clearly. The ground lays flat and steady for about a mile, then it starts to slowly descend. The lower they go, the fewer trees are around them. After a few minutes of walking, Ivory holds out his arm to stop the other two. The sun is a little past it’s high point, so it shines almost directly into the clearing.

The canyon is huge. It looks like it was cut from the earth with a jagged knife. It zigs and zags and stretches on for what looks like miles. Far away behind them, the top of the dam peeks out just over the trees. Hera picks up a rock and throws it over the edge. They don’t hear it hit the ground.

“Alright, you’ve seen it,” Ivory says. “Let’s get out of here.”

He turns around and starts to head back. Hera catches Annie’s eye, and she has a triumphant, almost wild look to her. Annie knows exactly what that look means.

This canyon is going to work just fine. They could blow up the dam and wash away every other tribute. This plan is going to work.

The sun sets impossibly fast as they walk back to the clearing where their group is. None of them says a single word. They don’t know what there is to talk about.

When they’re a few minutes away from the group, they hear shouts. Ivory starts to run, pulling his sword out of his belt. He stops short, though, when a cannon goes off.

Annie’s heart sinks.

They all sprint the rest of the way to the clearing. Annie finds Sebastian immediately, still propped against his tree, watching the rest of the group. Ivory is already down on his knees with an arm around Holiday. Romana is kicking the ground. She buries her machete into a tree and sinks to her knees, screaming. Annie and Hera walk to the group.

“What’s wrong?” Annie asks.

“His stitches popped. Or something.” Holiday looks back and forth between the two other girls. “We didn’t know what to do.”

Annie looks down at Titus’ body. He’s sitting in a pool of his own blood. His eyes are open and lifeless. His skin is pale, his lips already turning blue.

Hera sinks to her knees, but otherwise has no reaction. She looks like she’s staring at her own body.

“YOU,” comes a scream from somewhere behind them. Half a second later, Romana has Hera pinned to the ground. “YOU DID THIS. YOU KNEW THIS WOULD HAPPEN.”

She presses her sword against Hera’s throat.


	13. Monsters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Discord within the Career group forces Annie to step up.

“Romana, STOP!”

The shout echoes around the clearing. One by one, every person looks at Annie except for Romana, who has her eyes trained on Hera. Her sword draws a thin line of blood from the other girl’s throat, but she doesn’t do anything worse.

“Was this your plan all along?” Romana hisses. “Get into the group and then kill us off one by one?”

Hera tries to shake her head, but stops when she feels the blade against her neck.

“No, I never dreamed of that,” she says, keeping her voice calm and even. “I swear. I didn’t know that would happen. I’m so sorry.”

Romana starts to press her sword down even more, and Annie instinctively reaches for a knife.

“ROMANA,” she shouts. This time she looks up, and her eyes immediately snap to Annie’s hand resting on the knife belt.

“What?” Romana says. Her voice is full of poison and loathing and pain.

“She saved my life,” Annie says in the same clear voice that rang across the group moments before. “She could’ve let me die, but she saved me. Why would she kill--?”

“DON’T,” Romana snaps, but gears seem to be clicking in her mind. She pulls the sword away and throws it down a few feet away, though she stays on top of Hera. “Don’t think you’re off the hook. You’re responsible for this. I know you are. But killing you would get me killed right now, and I’m not letting that happen.”

She stands up and spits on Hera before retrieving her sword.

“Maybe we should go back to the Cornucopia,” Holiday suggests. Her voice is shaking. “We’ve been here for way too long. And you guys saw what you came to see. We should go back where we have the advantage.”

Annie offers a hand to Hera and she gladly takes it, using her other hand to press on her bloody neck as she stands up. When Annie looks back at the group, she sees that they’re all looking at her.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

“What should we do?” Ivory replies.

Hera takes a jar of salve out of her pack and rubs some across her neck. Sebastian braces himself and slowly stands up against his tree. Romana is haphazardly throwing things into her pack. Holiday is pretending to be interested in her canteen, but Annie can see her cheeks burning red in the dim light.

“Holiday’s right,” she says. “We should go back to the Cornucopia. It’s a better vantage point.”

They finish packing silently. It takes a long time to walk back because of Sebastian’s leg. He moves slowly, propped between Hera and Ivory. Annie takes the lead with Holiday. Romana stomps along around them, sometimes in front and sometimes behind, but never moving with the group.

“I would hate to lose my District Partner like that so soon,” Holiday whispers.

“What a weird, sad accident,” Annie says, only vaguely involved in the conversation. Holiday’s lip twitches. Annie can’t tell if it’s a quiver or a smirk. Neither of them says anything for the rest of the walk.

After several long hours, they stumble into the clearing. The Cornucopia sits just ahead of them, almost glittering in the moonlight. The anthem starts, but they ignore it. Only one face flashes in the sky, and none of them want to look at it.

Annie can’t help but wonder how the other Tributes are reacting to this. One of the strongest Careers is dead. There might even be some small celebration in another part of the Arena. Three days in, and there are 11 people still alive. More than half the people who went in are dead. In just three short days.

Romana throws her pack down in the mouth of the Cornucopia.

“I’m staying here. I’m not sleeping tonight. Not with her around.” She points her sword at Hera. “We could easily end this now. If we kill her—“

“No,” Annie says. Romana purses her lips.

“Alright, mermaid girl. I hope you’re a light sleeper.”

She drives her sword into the ground and sits next to it. Holiday and Ivory join her. The three of them sit in a tight knot, whispering to each other. Annie and Hera help Sebastian settle on the ground, far away from the mouth of the Cornucopia.

“Well, I’m not sleeping tonight,” Hera announces.

“I’m not, either,” Annie says. “I don’t think I can….”

“Well, if you two are staying up…” Sebastian begins, but Hera gives him a look.

“You are sleeping. You are getting some more of this salve, and then you are sleeping. That’s the most important thing for you right now.”

Sebastian looks to Annie for support, but she shakes her head. He’s still pale. That walk can’t have helped, either, but they had to get out of that place. She couldn’t stand to be near Titus anymore. Not when he was like that….

Hera helps Sebastian with his bandages and medicine while Annie makes a small fire. He’s asleep within minutes. His body just gives out on him, after a severe injury and a day of walking.

“He should get better pretty fast,” Hera says, holding her hands up to the flame. “That medicine is seriously amazing. I mean, you’re almost completely healed, in two days, after severe muscle damage. That’s basically a miracle.”

Annie grabs her injured arm and looks across the clearing. The others have made a fire. Holiday chats easily with Ivory, but Romana is staring directly into the flames like no one else is even there.

“I feel bad for her,” Annie murmurs.

“What?”

“Romana. It can’t be easy to lose your District Partner like that.”

“I didn’t see Leeri die,” Hera blurts. “I don’t know what happened. I didn’t help him.”

“You couldn’t have.”

“I could. I could have.” Her eyes are hard and dark. For a moment, Annie thinks she’s about to cry, but she shakes her head and pulls a small wedge of cheese from her pack.

Annie remembers, vividly, seeing Leeri die. A lot of the bloodbath is lost in a fog of pain and blood, but she remembers that. The arrow going through his chest. Lark’s steely, surprised eyes at missing her target. The way the young boy collapsed to the ground like a doll.

“I saw it,” she murmurs. “I saw it happen. You couldn’t have stopped it.”

Hera almost drops her cheese.

“What happened?” she asks. “How did he… how did it happen?”

“Lark. The girl from Eight. With an arrow. She was aiming for me, Hera, and she….”

“She what?” Silence. “She what, Annie?”

“She missed.” Her voice cracks and she clears her throat. “She was aiming for me and hit him. I’m so sorry.”

“So you’re telling me that if you had moved from your platform right away instead of taking a vacation, I might still have a District Partner?”

Annie almost winces at her words, but they’re true.

“I’m sorry,” she says again.

They sit in silence for a long time. Hera eats her cheese and a small piece of bread. Annie watches Sebastian sleep, and then the fire crackle, and then the sky.

“I know,” Hera finally says. “It’s not your fault. I’m sorry, I’m just—“

“I know.”

They sit quietly for a little longer. Across the clearing, Holiday and Ivory have both fallen asleep. Romana is sharpening her sword.

“I didn’t kill him,” Hera says matter-of-factly. “With him dead, I’m dead. I couldn’t afford to do anything but help him.”

“I know,” Annie replies. “His stitches popped. It was an accident.”

“Was it?”

“What?”

Hera’s eyes are still dark, but there’s a faint glimmer in them now.

“Stitches don’t just magically pop. Either he was moving around or one of them is lying.”

She looks back at the mouth of the Cornucopia.

“Which one?” she asks.

“Does it matter?”

“A little, yeah,” Annie says. “I’d like to know who’s about to murder me.”

“Look at where we are,” Hera snaps. “We are in the Hunger Games, _mermaid girl_. Everyone is trying to murder us. Hell, I could be planning to kill you right now and you wouldn’t even know until it happened.”

“You saved me,” Annie mumbles.

“I save people. It’s what I do.” She almost smirks, but it looks more like a grimace. Her voice gets softer, though. “Sorry to burst your bubble. I’m saving you because it saves me. You’re the only one fighting for your life. Well, and him.”

She points at Sebastian, still deeply asleep. Tears sting Annie’s eyes, but she blinks them away. She holds her hands in front of the fire. The Arena is getting colder, though she hadn’t noticed it before.

“I’m sorry,” Hera says. “I’m on edge.”

“No, you’re right,” Annie tells her. “We can watch each other’s backs and make alliances, but in the end, only one person is getting out of here alive.”

They trail, again, into silence, staring into the fire. After a moment, Hera pulls out the salve and rubs some more along the cut on her neck.

“How do you know all this stuff?” Annie asks. “You didn’t learn all this from the First Aid station during training, did you?”

Hera scoffs.

“Oh, no. Both my parents are Healers. I was on track to be one, too. All signed up for school and everything.” She turns a little more towards Annie. “My parents didn’t train me, exactly, but they made sure I knew enough to be helpful in an emergency. Plus they always brought their work home, and I would look through their notes and their books.”

“That’s cool,” Annie says. “My dad taught me how to sail, a little, and my mom….”

She trails off and rubs at her eye. She actually doesn’t know what her mom taught her. To come home a Victor? To always dress well for important occasions? She tried to teach her, once, the dangers of walking around a city without any shoes on, but that didn’t stick at all. She sniffs and rubs her eye again. If she can’t answer that question, she can at least humanize herself a little.

“I want to go home,” she says, quiet enough that it should be personal, but loud enough so the cameras can pick up her voice.

“Oh, not me,” Hera says. “I’d like to stay here, I think. The random splashes of blood just scream ‘home’ to me.”

They look at each other, and, even though it’s the last thing either of them feels like doing, they laugh. Annie forgot she even could laugh. She doesn’t remember the last time she did. They trail off into faint smiles and add more sticks to the fire.

A star twinkles red in the sky. Annie stares at it curiously for a moment. A bright red spot in the middle of all that black. When it starts getting closer, she realizes it’s a parachute. It floats down and lands at Hera’s feet.

“I think it’s for both of us,” she says, pulling the lid open. There are two little packages in the canister. Hera hands the one marked with a “4” to Annie and pulls her own into her lap.

Salt and seaweed waft up to her before she can even pull the wrapping off, and she knows what it is. She remembers helping her dad make it when she was growing up. She remembers getting covered in flour and her mom rolling her eyes at them. She remembers getting in the bath while it baked and eating it hot out of the oven.

She pulls the paper open and sees a loaf of bread, just like home. It’s different from the one Sebastian shared with her just this morning. It’s rounder, and the crust is, well, crustier. She rips it in half and inhales the smell. It’s hot and fresh.

For the second time that night, Annie has to blink away tears. She looks up at Hera. Her eyes are soft now, like they’ve melted. There’s a small cloth bag filled with the little biscuit-like breads from 3, and a weird circular shape that Hera runs her fingers over.

“What is it?” Annie asks.

“A wire bracelet.”

“Oh, that’s… nice.”

Hera shakes her head and looks up at Annie.

“I grew up with Beetee Latier. He’s really close with my parents. I called him Uncle Beetee until I was twelve. Sometimes, if my parents had to work late or anything like that, they’d ask Beetee to check in on me. He’d come over after school, and help me with my homework, but he didn’t really know how to connect with me. So, one day, he brought a bunch of wire over, and we spent the whole afternoon making bracelets like these.” She slips her hand through it, having to push her knuckles through, and it sits snugly around her wrist. “What did you get?”

“Some bread,” Annie answers, shrugging.

They don’t say anything else for a long time. They’re both lost in their gifts, trying not to cry over precious memories. _How long do I have left to think about these things?_ Annie wonders. _How many memories do I have left?_

Sebastian turns over, still asleep. She hopes his leg is better. She pulls off a piece of the bread and pops it in her mouth. It’s the perfect amount of chewy and crusty. It’s not much, but it’ll keep her from starving for a little while. As she eats, the sky turns from black to a dark inky blue. Hera has her bracelet in her hands again. She turns it over and over, like it’s a puzzle she can’t figure out.

“So my plan,” Hera murmurs randomly. She moves so she can say it right into Annie’s ear, out of reach of all the microphones in the Arena. “Yesterday was a slip up, one that will probably cost me my life in the next few days.”

“What are you--?”

“Stop. Listen. We dig up the mines from around the platforms.”

“Won’t they go off?” Annie whispers.

“No. They’re deactivated. So all we have to do is dig them up, maybe four or five of them, plant them in the foundation of the dam, and then detonate.”

Annie pulls away to really look at Hera. There’s a ferocity to her features that she’d never noticed before.

“How do we do that?” she asks.

“With this.” Hera holds up the bracelet. “I knew he wouldn’t send it to me if it wasn’t useful.”

“How are wires going to set off a bunch of mines?”

“I’ll make a remote.”

“You can do that?”

Hera shrugs.

“It’s not hard. Beetee taught me how when I was about eight.”

Annie bites the inside of her lips and looks at the girl from 3.

“Are you sure this will work?”

“One hundred percent.” Hera pronounces each syllable like they can change everything.

_Which_ , Annie thinks, _I suppose they can._

One part of the sky goes purple.

“It’s almost sunrise,” Annie says at normal volume.

Hera nods.

And then an ax flies by her head, missing by mere inches. Annie jumps to her feet, grasping for her knife, as Hera pulls her bowstring back into firing position. Annie hadn’t even seen her ready her arrow. She hadn’t even seen Romana creep across the clearing.

“Drop your other weapons, Romana, and come closer slowly,” Hera calls.

“I don’t think I will,” the other girl yells back. “I think I’ll keep my weapons where they are and come over to you anyway.”

Hera fires her arrow. It zooms dangerously close to Romana’s neck, but it misses. The bow already has another arrow in place.

“The next one won’t be so safe,” she yells, but Romana’s response is another ax. This one grazes Hera’s side. She hits the ground, clutching her ribs, blood seeping between her fingers. Romana holds up her sword and starts forward.

“Hey, stop,” Annie says, faintly, unsure of what to do. Holiday and Ivory are jogging across the clearing, weapons in hand. Sebastian stirs and sits up, eyes immediately wide at the sight of Hera bleeding on the ground.

Romana settles herself over Hera, pressing her to the ground with her legs, and stabs her sword down into the dirt right next to her head. Hera stares up with fury and fear equally mixed in her eyes.

The sky is purple now, plum to lavender, running in streaks from horizon to horizon.

“Say it,” Romana spits.

Ivory and Holiday run up next to Annie and stop.

“Romana.”

“What are you doing?”

“Shut up,” she snaps, looking over her shoulder for a split second before turning her attention back to Hera. “Say. It.”

“Say what?”

“You know, you bitch. Don’t play dumb. I know you’re the smartest one out of all of us.”

Hera gasps and presses harder against her side.

“Really, I don’t know.”

Romana presses her face inches from Hera’s. She twists her sword in the dirt. Annie pulls a knife off her belt, ready to throw it at any second.

“You. Killed. Titus. Say it.”

“I didn’t,” Hera groans. “His stitches popped. I didn’t do it.”

“So you saved mermaid girl and her stitches didn’t pop, but Titus’ did?”

Annie feels a tap on her leg. Sebastian has crawled over to her. He holds up a jar of the miracle medicine they’ve been using. She knows exactly what he means. She nods at him to have it ready. Hera’s going to need it.

“I don’t know what happened,” Hera says. “They shouldn’t have. Really. And I didn’t use stitches on Annie. Hers was a spear wound. Straight up and down. I just used a lot of medicine and bandages.”

“So why use stitches for Titus?”

“It was available. His bone was sticking out of his leg, that would’ve taken longer to heal. Romana, please.” Hera pulls her blood-soaked hand away from her side and lets out a ragged breath.

“Please, what? Kill you? Okay.” She pulls her sword out of the ground, but quickly drops it. She rolls off Hera, holding her now bleeding hand against her chest. She looks wildly around the group until her eyes land on Annie, arm still outstretched from the knife she threw. “What the hell!”

“That’s enough,” Annie says, and this time she’s found her voice. She knows what to do. “We have to stop this. Look at where we are.”

“Exactly,” Romana spits. “Look at where we are. We’re in the Arena. One person comes out alive. This isn’t magical joy time, mermaid girl, this is kill or be killed.”

“And, in case you forgot, there’s a whole other group wanting to do exactly that to us. We can’t waste all this time killing each other. Don’t make their job easier.”

Romana points at Hera.

“She killed—“

“No, she didn’t. She tried to save him, but he couldn’t be saved. Like you said, only one person comes out alive. Try not to get so upset over one death.” Annie’s hands are shaking. Romana looks like she just swallowed a huge mouthful of seawater.

“So why do you care if I kill her now?”

“She’s the only one of us with medical training, idiot,” Holiday snaps. “If you kill her, we’ll all be dead in a day.”

“Get up and start acting like you’re from Two,” Annie says. Romana stands up slowly and rips off part of her shirt to wrap her hand. “Sebastian, give me that.”

She snatches the medicine out of his hands and stomps over to Hera. As Annie rubs the salve over her ribs, Hera starts to laugh.

“What?” Annie murmurs.

“I’d say you’re becoming a real leader. Finnick must be proud.”

Her stomach jumps. Her heart pounds in her throat. She could die any minute, but she can’t stop feeling whatever she feels for Finnick.

“He must be,” she replies sarcastically.

“Why save me?” Hera asks, groaning as she props herself up on her elbows. “Why not just let me bleed out? One less person to deal with later.”

“Because,” Annie snaps. Holiday brings her a roll of bandages when she sits up and looks around. She wraps all around Hera’s torso, moving slowly. The far end of the arena is pink now. When she’s done, she stands up.

“We’re making some changes in this group,” she calls out, looking at each person individually. “No more separating, no more trying to kill each other. Yes, only one person wins, but we need to work together if it’s going to be one of us. There’s a group out there that’s dedicated to bringing us down, right? So let’s bring them down.”

At that exact moment, the sun peeks above the treeline, washing the entire arena in gold light. Annie looks at the rays of yellow and orange bleeding through the pink and purple sky, and she’s reminded that this is a TV show. Everything they do and say is entertaining the entire country.

She still doesn’t know if she wants to live or not, but she knows that she’d hate to go like this. She’d hate for her death to be televised for the Capitol to watch and rewatch and cry over, or cheer over. She doesn’t want to die as someone’s entertainment.

The rest of the morning moves quickly, and in relative silence. Due to Hera and Sebastian’s injuries, Annie suggests they stay where they are for the day. No one argues with her. They all move the camp back to the mouth of the Cornucopia. Ivory and Holiday spend the morning helping Hera and Sebastian. Romana sorts food and weapons and avoids everyone else.

Annie stalks around the camp. She checks the food, the weapons, the people. She keeps one hand on her hip, ready to throw a knife if necessary. She grabs Romana to check the trees around the Cornucopia with her. There’s nothing in them. No signs of a camp, not even signs of a person.

Instead of being comforted by this, it puts Annie on edge. There should be signs of people. Just three days ago, everyone, every single person in this Arena, was running through these trees to safety or to find others. There should be footprints. There should be scraps of fabric from torn jackets or signs of fights, or even blood splashed up tree trunks or across the dirt. But there’s nothing, and this means someone is nearby, someone is close, someone is making the scene look peaceful and normal again.

Someone is watching them.

The sun is directly above them when Annie and Romana finally head back to the group. Hera is sleeping, but Sebastian is sitting up and talking to Ivory. Holiday sits against the wall of the Cornucopia, just barely inside it, eating something slowly. They all look up when they hear footsteps, Holiday raising the sword in her hand, but when they see it’s Annie and Romana they go back to what they were doing. Romana sits by the pile of weapons and pulls a simple knife out of it.

“I’m bored,” she says, twirling the weapon between her fingers.

“I wish you wouldn’t say that,” Holiday says from her spot on the wall.

“Why not?”

Holiday doesn’t need to answer though. The noise is back, the one from yesterday. The air itself is screaming, whistling like a kettle, and it drills into them. It’s worse this time, though. Annie slaps her hands over her ears, but the sound comes in through her skin to vibrate through her bones. She can’t even hear her own screams, but her aching throat tells her that she definitely is.

Then it’s done.

“We need to go,” Hera yells.

They all stay down this time, though, for a full five seconds. When nothing comes darting across to kill them, they stand up, shakily, one by one. Sebastian and Hera lean against each other. Annie wheels around, looking out towards the trees, searching for something, anything. The dam is just visible above the top of the forest.

“What’s happening?” Ivory asks. “Was that a false alarm?”

“They wouldn’t do that,” Hera answers.

“Wouldn’t they?” Holiday’s words reverberate through Annie’s head for a moment before something catches the corner of her eye.

The boy from 11 is careening out of the trees, limbs flying out from his tall frame, propelling him away from something. He’s shouting things and waving his arms. Annie takes a small step forward. She doesn’t see what he’s running from. It could be some sort of fog, maybe, or a gas. Something they can’t see.

And then the ground starts moving behind him.

“WHAT IS THAT?” someone yells behind her, and then something yanks her arm back toward the Cornucopia.

“We have to get on top of there,” Holiday says to her, moving quickly towards the structure. “We have to move fast and we have to move now.”

“What’s wrong with the ground?” Annie asks.

“That’s not the ground.”

“Then what is it?”

“Snakes,” Holiday says, like the word means something. “That’s a huge group of snakes.”

The rest of the group rushes over to the Cornucopia wall.

“Injured people first,” Annie hears herself saying.

They all push Sebastian up until he can climb up the rest of the wall.

The boy from 11 is getting closer to them, the group of things moving impossibly fast behind him, throwing dirt and dust up into the air as they go.

Hera’s next. She’s up in a flash, with help from Holiday and Sebastian, despite her injury. She sits down hard on the Cornucopia, clutching her side, but turns back, ready to help the next person.

The boy from 11 is almost to them. The ground is moving faster, somehow.

“You get Ivory,” Annie says to Holiday, and then turns to boost Romana up the wall. Romana gets up to the top first. Ivory clambers quickly right behind her.

“Who first?” Holiday asks, looking back at Annie.

The boy from 11 is only a few yards away from the Cornucopia. A few pieces of the ground jump out and sink fangs into his legs. He hits the dirt beneath him, screaming, and the cannon goes off just before the ground swarms him.

“No time,” Annie says, and they both jump as high up the wall as they can. The others reach hands down, and begin to pull the two girls up, but they move too slowly.

Annie feels something sharp stab into her calf. Her blood begins to boil, and then freeze, and then she’s propelled up, over the Cornucopia, over the trees, up and up and up, until she leaves the Arena behind.


	14. Appeal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finnick gets supplies for Annie

The ax flies out of the girl’s hand, and the room falls silent. Finnick can only stare at his screen. It grazes Hera’s side. She’s on the ground, fingers clutched against her side, trying and failing to keep her blood in.

Last night felt like a bad dream. This morning isn’t starting out any better.

Having to sit there and watch that thing, whatever it was, sweep out of the trees. Watching Titus take the full force of it, and the way it shattered his leg like it was nothing. A twig. A toothpick. Sebastian hit the ground, but his leg was still up. He could’ve been dead in a pool of his own blood, too.

Finnick glances up at the screen. Her face is collected, calm, even, as she talks down the girl from 2. He’s glad, for her sake, that Sebastian didn’t die last night. He couldn’t help but feel a tinge of jealousy, though, as she bandaged his leg and held him, and spoke to him with that voice she uses to calm people down. The one that’s light, and sweet, and soothing, with none of the pitch or the rasp that it normally has. In another life, she could hold him that way. She could talk to him that way when….

No. He can’t think about her like that.

“Hey, Latier!” Enobaria shouts. Their sections are right next to each other, but her voice rings around the whole room. “You’re pretty lucky mermaid girl was there, or you’d be out for the year. Don’t think she can pull that shit again, though.”

The Careers are silent now, Tributes and mentors alike. The sun rises just behind her, making a halo around her dark hair. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes hard. She almost looks like she belongs there. She’s playing the Games now. His stomach clenches.

“Leave him alone, Enobaria,” he calls back across the sections.

“Don’t get involved,” Mena hisses, but ignores her, like he has been since last night.

“It was an accident,” he yells. “You saw his leg. He would’ve died either way after that.”

“Oh yeah?” She stands and crosses the District 3 section. “I should just get over it, is that what you’re saying?”

He half-smiles in the lazy way all his clients like.

“We all lose Tributes, Enobaria. It’s all part of the Games.”

“We’ll see if you feel the same way when your girlfriend dies, Odair. I bet you’ll cry. I bet you’ll absolutely lose it.”

Rage boils in his stomach and shoots up his back.

“That’s enough,” he snaps. “Let’s just all focus on our living Tributes.”

“That’s the thing, though, isn’t it?” she yells. “I only have one now. Because of his girl.”

She jabs a finger towards Beetee. On the screen, the girl from 2 stands up, pulls away from Hera, and stomps away. Finnick grins and gestures.

“You see?” he says to Enobaria. “Even your girl is calming down. Helping Hera will help the group, which helps your—“

“She has a name, Odair,” she snaps. “It’s Romana. Use it.”

And with that she turns on her heel and sprints back to the hallway leading to the mentors’ quarters. Finnick walks over to the 3 section and settles next to Beetee, running his fingers through his already tousled hair.

“Sorry about her,” he murmurs. “She can get intense.”

“She’s upset that her Tribute died in a way that wasn’t satisfactory to her District,” Beetee says. He pulls off his glasses and cleans the lenses with his sleeve. “It’s a difficult thing to sit through, to watch, for all of us. Not only have we lived through these things once, but after that we watch, we relive, we actively participate for the rest of our lives. She won’t calm down, but that’s fine. I understand the sentiment.”

Up on the screen, the group has resettled at the Cornucopia, no longer separated by District. Romana sits away from the rest of them, though. He looks at the 2 section, which is now empty. Their escort hurried down the hall after Enobaria, maybe to go get Brutus. He must still be sleeping. He’s not going to have a fun wake up call. His eyes dart to the 1 section, where Cashmere is just switching in for Gloss. They exchange smirks. Their usual greeting.

3 and 4 sitting together. 1 and 4 separated but friendly. 2 in a whole other place. They’re exactly like their Tributes now. It just goes to show. Once you go in the Arena, you never come out. May the odds be ever in your favor.

“I raised her,” Beetee says, breaking a long moment of silence.

“Who?”

“Hera. Well, I didn’t really raise her, but I was there for her whole life.”

Finnick’s stomach sinks.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs.

Beetee looks at him for a moment and gives him a small smile.

“If I didn’t know any better, Odair, I’d say you were showing sadness for another person. That’s not the Finnick we all know and love.” His voice is light, almost joking by Beetee’s standards, but Finnick can feel the warning he’s giving him.

“Well, I’m a complex guy, Latier,” he jokes back. “That’s a lot of my appeal. No one in Panem can claim to know the ‘real me.’”

He stretches back and pulls the rope from his pocket. Beetee settles more into his chair and cleans his glasses again. After a moment, he pushes the frames back into place on his face.

“No, I guess no one else can,” Beetee admits. “It must get tiring. All the fans, all the women. Well, maybe that part isn’t as tiring.”

His stomach clenches. He’s going to throw up. He hasn’t eaten anything yet, and it’s all going to come back up anyway. He loops the rope three times and pulls it tight before looking back at Beetee.

“That’s the best part,” he says with a level voice. He adds a smirk before he forgets it. He has to be convincing all the time, even with people who know. Or else he’ll forget. If he forgets, he’ll slip up. If he slips up, Mags dies. He can’t let that happen.

“I know it can’t compare to living on the beach, but you can always come see me, if you want to.” Beetee’s glasses drop down his nose, but he doesn’t do anything to fix them. “Take a vacation, if you ever feel like it. Get away from it all, as they say.”

He raises one eyebrow a fraction of an inch and pushes his glasses back up.

“I’ll think about it,” Finnick says.

“Food for thought,” Beetee replies with a smile. Then he sits back in his chair and looks up at the screen.

_What is he talking about?_ Finnick looks at the older man, his darting eyes and twitching fingers starting to relax as the Arena becomes more relaxed. _If I want to get away from it all? I can’t get away from it all. Ever. Unless…._ He goes back to his rope. Beetee can’t be suggesting that. He wouldn’t. Not in a Capitol building. He’s smarter than that.

Three loops. Pull it tight. The whole thing unravels in his hands and he puts it back in his pocket.

“I’m going for a walk,” he announces. He doesn’t know what else to do. Just sitting doesn’t seem like a viable option at the moment.

Beetee nods.

“I’ll stay here, then. Would you like me to wake up Mags if anything happens?”

Finnick glances back at the hall leading to all their rooms and frowns.

“No. She needs to sleep. I think she’s getting sick. I won’t be gone long. And Mena’s still here. She’s not much, but she can be helpful.”

“Okay,” Beetee says, hesitantly.

Finnick nods and walks over to the District 1 section, where Cashmere sits cleaning her nails.

“I’m going for a walk,” he tells her. “You want to come?”

She looks at him for a moment, then nods.

“Yeah,” she says, standing up. “I need to stretch my legs. And you look like you need some human interaction.”

“Yeah,” he replies. “Thanks.”

They walk down to the aisle between that section and the now-empty District 2 seats. Hopefully their escort, whose name Finnick still hasn’t bothered to learn, is waking up Brutus. Someone should get him out here and tell him what happened. Although, once he’s up and hears that his Capitol-favorite front-runner died from an injury he didn’t get in battle, he won’t be happy. He probably won’t sleep much for the rest of the Games. Better to let him rest while he can.

“Your girl is stepping up,” Cashmere says as they walk down the short hallway that leads to the Trading Floor. A cheer greets them, a small crowd of sponsors gathers by the entrance, shoving hands in their faces.

“Yeah, she’s doing alright,” he responds while flashing a smile at a particularly rich-looking group.

“What will you do if she wins?” she asks him while shaking hands with a large man with blue tattoos and hair.

“I don’t know,” he answers. They exchange a quick, sad smile. “Should we get stuff for them? While we’re here? You take One and Two, I’ll take Three and Four?”

She nods and they go separate ways through the crowd.

That’s Finnick’s least favorite tradition with Cashmere. _What will you do if your Tribute wins?_ Neither of them has had a victory since their Games, but they ask each other that same question every year. Careers have a better chance of being sold. They’re trained to do well, and trained to get people to like them. Sometimes they come up with big elaborate plans, things they wish they’d done after they won their Games that maybe would’ve kept the Capitol elite at bay.

They both know that none of that would’ve worked. Nothing will ever work. If the Capitol wants you, they’ll have you. Period. End of story.

“Oh, Finnick!” A familiar middle-aged woman grabs his arm and sidles up next to him. “Your little Annie is such a delight to watch! She’s really getting into it, isn’t she?”

“I told you all,” he says with another grin, “it takes time to get used to it sometimes. It can be overwhelming.”

“Well, I’m glad you did tell me that! Annie’s my absolute favorite now! Please take this for her. I want her to keep her energy up!” She presses a token into his hand, letting her fingers slip for just a moment too long over his. She’s going to run and tell all her friends about holding Finnick Odair’s hand right after this. He leans down and kisses her on the cheek, and her face erupts in scarlet.

“Thank you, very much, for your contribution,” he says to her. “I won’t forget it any time soon.”

He keeps walking while she sputters for a moment about the kiss. One of the things that makes Finnick a Capitol favorite is his willingness to go the extra step to make people happy. If he does the bare minimum, he’ll start slacking off. If he starts slacking off, Mags dies. It’s always better to make people ecstatic than just happy.

He looks down at the token in his hand and twirls it between his fingers. One loaf of bread. When he was in that Arena, he got a trident, and he can only get Cresta loaves of bread.

_And the best medicine the Capitol has to offer_ , says a voice in his mind. But that doesn’t quite feel like enough….

The trading floor is a large, packed room, not like the mentors’ viewing area. There’s a long box office on one wall where the sponsors can buy tokens. They can be adjusted, obviously, and there are custom ones, but some always stay the same. Bread, soup, and premium food. Basic medicine, basic first aid, premium medicine, premium first aid. Matches, and water, and clothing even. Then the custom ones, which can be any one item of the sponsors’ choosing. Sometimes it’s medicine to treat a specific wound, or some better food. For Finnick it was a trident. Just yesterday Beetee landed a sewing kit for Hera.

Screens are plastered high up on every inch of wall space, and a few hang from the ceiling. A smaller group runs through the woods. The girl who tried to kill Cresta is with them. The one with the red hair and the arrows. He frowns at her and keeps pushing his way through the crowd.

Without even having to think about it, Finnick lands another bread token just by smoothing back a woman’s hair and smiling at her. As he walks towards the Shipping Room with his tokens, he shudders a little bit. It’s too easy to play this game sometimes. But he also hates that it’s so easy. He wishes he didn’t have to know any of this. He wishes, more than anything, that he was back in 4 now. Maybe swimming with Cresta. Or just walking along the beach with her, or cliff-diving, or….

He can’t think about her in that way. _For her own safety, Odair_ , he reminds himself.

When he walks in the Shipping Room, Cashmere is already there.

“Yeah, that’s two for District One and one for District Two,” she’s telling the stern-looking man at the counter. “That’s not too hard for you, is it?”

“No,” he says, and Finnick feels a little bad for the guy. He’s just trying to do his job and save a little face. But then he remembers that this guy is probably so upset because he wants, desperately, to be a Gamemaker, but he hasn’t worked up to that yet. Finnick can feel sympathy for most people, but Gamemakers aren’t most people.

Cashmere passes him her tokens, he punches in something on his computer, they smile at each other, and she steps aside. Finnick slides his own tokens to the man.

“One for Three, one for Four,” he says.

The man types something on his screen. “Just the one bread for your District? You know you still have two Tributes, right?”

His stomach sinks.

“People only want to give things to—“

“I know, I know,” the man says. “Come on, Odair, lighten up.”

He flashes him a smile that makes Finnick want to hit him.

“Next time you make a joke, try being funny,” he says.

“Have a nice day,” the man says, and Finnick’s out of there, just a step behind Cashmere.

“So, do you know yet?” she asks as they navigate back through the crowd to the viewing room.

“Know what?”

“What you’ll do if she wins.”

“No.”

A big cheer. Lots of gasps and excited noises. They both turn to the nearest screen, but it only shows a boy running through the trees. He’s terrified, but Finnick doesn’t have time to be concerned for everyone in there. A pang of guilt hits him for that. They shrug at each other and keep walking.

“Finnick?” He looks back at her. She looks concerned. “Do you know what you’ll do if she… doesn’t win?”

“No,” he answers. “I don’t really know that either.”

They walk in silence back to the viewing room, and as soon as they walk in, something is very wrong. Everyone was quiet before, and now they’re all buzzing.

“Something’s wrong,” Cashmere mutters to herself, then practically sprints to Gloss, who’s looking around for her like a lost puppy.

Something is wrong. Someone’s hurt. A couple people, maybe. Finnick looks over to his section, and sees Mena walking in fast circles while Mags stares sadly at the screen.

“No,” he murmurs. “Please, no.”

As he jogs down the aisle to the center of the room, he passes Gloss and Cashmere in their section.

“…only two bites, thankfully, three of them kills you, but we don’t…”

He turns his head to look at Gloss, but keeps walking.

“What happened?” he asks when he comes up to Mena.

“I don’t know,” she titters. “Mutts, snakes! They killed a boy. The Careers were getting up on the Cornucopia, but they just kept getting closer—“

“Mena.”

She takes a deep breath and grabs his arm in an almost loving gesture.

“Annie and Holiday stayed on the ground to help the others. They both suffered bites.”

His heart stops.

“She’s not--?”

“No, no, she’s alive. But we don’t know what will… happen exactly.”

“What does that mean?”

Mena doesn’t say anything for a moment. He looks to Mags, who looks terrified.

“The snakes were carrying Tracker Jacker venom,” Mena answers. “Three bites kills you, and she only got one, we think. But they’ve never put Tracker Jacker venom in other animals like this before. We have no idea of knowing what the affects will be.”

Finnick turns right back around towards the Trading Floor.

“Where going?” Mags calls behind him. His stomach lurches. He turns and looks into her eyes.

“I’m getting her an antidote. I’m doing my job.” He feels one tear roll down his cheek and brushes it away. “I’m saving her life.”


	15. Help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Careers go hunting.

She’s running through the forest. Trees pop and swirl and crumble into dust around her, and she keeps running. She stops for a moment, listening.

“Annie!” Way off in the distance. She’s running again.

If she looks at the ground for too long, it melts under her, so she doesn’t look at the ground. This is all she knows now. This is her entire life. There was a moment of peace. A stabbing sensation around her ankle, then she drifted into comfortable darkness, only to be awoken a few moments later, a bright jab of white light making her blind, making her fall. There were people around her. People with drooping faces and fangs dripping with poison, and they were all saying her name, so she ran.

A leaf falls off a tree, and turns into a knife, and shoots down at her feet, making her jump three feet in the air and start to run away, but her shoes are made of cement blocks. She can’t move, and the knife is still at her feet, except now it’s a leaf again.

“What is happening,” she says to herself.

“Annie!” Closer now. She pulls off her shoes and keeps running. The ground tries to suck her feet in, but she’s too fast for it. It must be working with them, with the people who are after her, but she’ll get away.

She can go anywhere. She can keep on running and go anywhere she wants and they’ll never find her. They’ll never get her. She’ll run until the trees stop melting and then she’ll climb one, and she’ll hide there. She’ll stay there, she’ll eat the bark to keep herself alive, and they won’t find her.

She stops running to laugh.

“What if I win?” she asks herself. “What if I win and I’m hiding and they can’t find me and I have to stay here?”

It could happen. She could hide herself so well that no one will ever find her, and she’ll live in this forest forever, with the popping trees and the river of blood rushing up to her knees.

“When did this get here?” she asks. She tries to take a step, but she can’t. Her heart starts pounding, beating away at her bones to get out of her chest. She tries another step, but can’t do it. The blood rises to her hip and she screams.

She’s going to drown. She’s going to drown in blood, she’s going to choke on it and breathe it in until she dies.

“But I can swim,” she exclaims.

She dives, headfirst, into the river, hoping she can get out of it at some point, and slams into the ground. She scrambles to her feet. Another trap. Another trick by the people who are after her. Well, that won’t work either. She can get away from them. She will. She has to.

For Finnick.

Her heart bursts when she thinks of him. That’s why she’s running. If she runs far enough, she’ll get back to him. They’ll laugh and they’ll embrace and they’ll kiss and things will go back to normal. Actually, they’ll go back to better than normal. Normal Annie would see Finnick a few times a month and he’d hold her at arms length and never say her name. Better-than-normal Finnick will never stop saying her name. He’ll say it over and over, again and again, except when he’s kissing her. And he’ll smile when he kisses her. His hands will run all over her body, and hers all over his, and they’ll never stop. Never ever.

She runs and runs and runs, over glass and water and fire and even ice at one point. By the time she stops, it’s dark. The sun has gone, and she can’t hear any sign of the people who are after her. The trees here seem sturdier. She must have run far away.

Suddenly, the sky lights up, and music blares all around her. She jumps, reaching for a knife, but there’s no one there. A single face appears in the sky, and then it’s dark again.

_The boy from 11_ , she thinks, but she doesn’t know what exactly that means. She climbs up into a tree. The branches make her hands ache and the bark scratches her feet, but she keeps climbing, up and up and up, until she reaches a strong, sturdy feeling branch.

She closes her eyes for a split second, and then it’s light out again. The rays from the sun make the trees shimmer, like they’re absorbing all the light. She climbs down from the tree and it wilts at her feet, blocking her path forward. No way to go but back.

When she turns around, Annie realizes that she has no idea where she is. She could be a hundred miles from everyone at this point. She wonders if she’ll be the first Tribute to ever get lost in the Arena. The idea makes her laugh, and she starts walking. The obstacles from yesterday are gone, but they’ve left their marks. Scorched trees surround her while she treks through thick mud that swallows her feet whole. Her legs are smeared with blood. Just like the tree trunks. She could stop walking and turn into one, probably.

The sun rises higher, and the mud gets thicker. It cakes around her ankles and her calves, but her feet are smacking hard ground.

“It’s not real,” she whispers, and the mud disappears. The trees go back to normal. There are long scratches down her legs, but they’re not covered in blood. Her bare feet are covered in dirt and dust. And then it all snaps back, and the blood is everywhere, and the fire, and the mud.

Screaming, she runs until she trips on something in her path—an arm? A leg maybe? No, it’s a whole body. It’s a large boy with dark hair, and his leg torn open. His lips are blue and his eyes are open and staring at her. She stays on the ground, shrieking.

“Annie!” Close. Too close. She tries to stand, but her legs give out. They’re going to get her. She pulls a knife off her belt.

“Stay away!” she yells. Her voice is raw.

“Annie!” The trees just in front of her start moving. But they’re not trees, they’re people. She throws the knife and hands wrap around her arms. The people are on top of her, grabbing her, carrying her, but she can’t move. She can’t stop them. She reaches for another knife, but her hands are bound.

“Sorry about that.” A girl. “You’re gonna kill one of us if we let you keep them, though.”

“We have to get you back to the Cornucopia.” A boy. “We’re lucky we even found you.”

The girl laughs. “Yeah, well, Sebastian would’ve killed us if we didn’t.”

“Sebastian,” Annie says. The name hits a chord.

“Yeah, Sebastian. Your District Partner? Come on, we haven’t got all day.”

She still can’t see their faces. She trusts Sebastian, though. Sebastian wouldn’t hurt her. She doesn’t know how she knows that, but she does. After a walk through the forest, back through the popping and melting trees, they pull her into a large clearing made of dirt. A dark, shining palace sits in the middle of it.

“Annie!” Several cries, a cheer, and two different sets of arms around her, helping her to the palace. They help her to the ground, in the shade, and one of them places something in her hands. It’s cold.

“Drink that,” a voice says. It’s feminine, smooth and comforting and deep for a girl’s voice.

“Hera?”

“Yeah. It’s me. Welcome back. Drink that. It’ll stop all the confusion and the scary things.”

She lifts it to her mouth and drinks it down. The liquid is cool and a little sweet, and it makes her tired. Within seconds, she feels her head hit the wall behind her, and she’s asleep.

Hours later, she wakes up to the sound of wind instead of the rush of blood through her head. Birds are tweeting, people are talking, and everything seems clear again. Someone put her shoes back on her feet. She tries to stand up, but falls back down.

“Woah, there!” Sebastian half-jogs over to her and helps her stand. “Careful. You should be taking things slow.”

He wraps an arm around her waist to keep her steady.

“You’re walking,” she says.

“Good eye,” he replies with a small smile. “That medicine we keep getting is amazing. Really. I’m not totally better, but I can walk, and that’s the important part, right?”

“Right,” she says. “Glad to see you on your feet.”

He steers her towards the rest of the group, which isn’t far. They’re a little outside the mouth of the Cornucopia. The world around her is a little wobbly, but everything’s intact.

“You shouldn’t be up yet,” Hera says while Annie takes a seat in the group. “You went untreated for a whole day. You must be—“

“—good enough,” Annie finishes. “What are we talking about?”

She looks around the little circle. Holiday isn’t there, but everyone else is looking at her like she’s a bomb about to go off.

“Annie, you should really be sleeping,” Ivory says. “When we found you yesterday, you tried to kill us. You looked like hell. No offense. You should sleep until it’s all out of your system.”

“I’m fine,” she says, assertively. “Where’s Holiday?”

“Still sleeping,” Hera answers. “She got two bites. A lot more poison than you got. Almost a lethal amount. She’ll need to sleep for awhile.”

Annie nods her head, and it throbs. Sebastian hands her a canteen and a small array of food.

“Thought you’d be hungry,” he says. She smiles and takes a long drink of water.

“What happened? I don’t remember much of anything.”

“Those snakes were Mutts,” Hera explains. “They had Tracker Jacker venom. A certain amount would’ve killed you, we think three or four bites based on Holiday’s state. We think the boy from Eleven was watching us for the other group when the Mutts attacked.”

She still doesn’t know what snakes are. She looks to Sebastian, who shrugs at her. He apparently doesn’t know, either.

“Tracker Jacker venom?” she asks.

“Yeah,” Romana snaps. “You were seeing things that weren’t there, everything was scary, but you’re okay now, right? Can we get back to the discussion?”

Hera purses her lips but doesn’t say anything.

“The other group,” Ivory says, taking the lead. “We have no idea where they are, but they have a pretty good idea of where we are.”

“They have to be close, right?” Sebastian looks at each person, making sure his contribution is valid. “If they can send people out to watch us and have surprise attacks for us, then they have to be close by.”

“All their plans have failed, though,” Annie says. “They could’ve gone farther for safety. Protect their slimming numbers, as it were.”

“Who’s left?” Romana asks.

“Gavon,” Hera says. Her eyes are shut tight, remembering. She taps all of her fingers in turn while she talks. “He’s from Five, I think. Amory, from Six. Lark, from Eight. Andrea, from Ten. I think they’re the only ones left now.”

“That leaves ten of us total,” Annie says.

There’s a short, awkward pause while they all avoid looking at each other.

“Yeah,” Ivory says. “There’s ten of us.”

“Does anyone have any ideas?” Sebastian asks.

“I do,” Hera says after a short moment. “We go hunting.”

For a moment, her face looks like it’s melting. Annie shuts her eyes and takes a deep breath. When she opens her eyes again, everything is mostly back to normal.

“If they’re watching us, hunting them is pointless,” Ivory says.

“No, not for them,” Hera explains. “We go hunting. We go out into the forest. We pretend to drop our guards. They’ll attack because they think we won’t suspect it, and then there we are, waiting for them.”

“Do you think that’ll wipe them out?” Romana snaps. “What if they see that coming, or if they run away?”

“We’ll probably get at least one of them,” Hera offers.

“No, this is a good idea,” Annie says. “If we’re fast enough, we can maybe even scare them off or something. As long as we get them off our backs, that should be enough.”

“Wait, wait a minute,” Ivory interrupts. He’s pointing right at Annie. “You were wandering around the forest all night dazed out of your mind and hallucinating. Did they not go after you? Their watch might be down.”

“We don’t really know anything about them,” Hera says. “But I don’t really want to sit here and do nothing while they get all of us injured and killed. We can act like we need meat or something and go out. We’ll be loud, and hopefully they’ll take the bait.”

“This is good,” Annie says. “This’ll work.”

“I’ll stay here with Holiday,” Ivory says. “Someone needs to. She’s still passed out. She can be a bitch, but she doesn’t deserve to get killed by someone from some weird District while she’s sleeping.”

“Alright,” Romana says, standing up. “Let’s get going. You okay mermaid girl?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She’s not. Spots pop in her vision from time to time. She doesn’t want to just sit here, though. She wants to do something. She wants to get up and go out and be a part of the action.

The four of them pull on backpacks as the bottom of the sun drops below the horizon. Annie lost three knives during her long forest walk.

“Oh, well,” she says, tightening the belt around her waist. “That’s what happens when I go running off on my own.”

“You still have three,” Sebastian says, holding onto her arm while they walk. “Don’t worry about it.”

The woods are eerily quiet again. The animal noises Annie had heard when she woke up are gone now. The trees cast weird shadows. There’s only the crunch of their boots on rocks and sticks, or the occasional yell one of them will give. It’s a noisy trek, but not suspiciously so.

“This could really work,” Annie murmurs to Hera at one point. “Good idea.”

Hera responds with a smile and hangs back from the group, prompting Annie to join her.

“We have to leave soon,” she says.

“What?”

“To blow the dam. Tonight, when we get back from this. We take Sebastian and some mines and we go.”

Annie looks at her and sees the determination in her ally’s face. If this plan works, they get closer and closer to being the only people left. They can’t all stay in a group forever. This is the Arena. Only one person comes out alive.

“What are you two doing?” Romana calls back to them. She stops walking and turns, hands on her hips, to look at them. “Come on, hurry up. Don’t fall so far back.”

Hera straightens up.

“Maybe if you two weren’t so loud—“

She stops suddenly and lurches to her knees, landing hard on her palms.

“Hera, what--?”

But then Annie sees it. The arrow sticks from her back, long and thin. The setting sun reflects off it in gold streaks that don’t fit. She sinks to her knees next to her friend.

“Hera?”

Her voice is hoarse and faint. The tree shadows suddenly get darker, they start moving, and Annie’s hands start shaking. Romana runs full on into a group of them. Sebastian is on the ground, driving his weapon down into a dark mass.

She reaches for the arrow, but as soon as she touches it, Hera jerks awkwardly to her side.

“Hera?”

Her voice is trembling now. She can feel her lip quiver. She forces herself to look into Hera’s eyes. They’re still dark and glistening. She draws a shaky breath and reaches out to pull Annie closer to her.

“Take S…Sebastian. R-run. Don’t trust them.”

“And you’re coming with us,” Annie says. “Come on, any second now we’ll get a parachute and we’ll—“

“You’ll what? P-patch up my l-lung?”

“Yes,” Annie sobs. She lies next to her and takes her hands. “I’ll help you, like you helped me. I still haven’t repaid you for that.”

“And you won’t,” she groans. “Not everything gets repaid.”

“I still need you,” Annie whispers.

“You’ll do fine. You’re g-going to win. You know that, r-right? You are.”

“I’m not.”

“Your mentor is c-crazy about you. It’s been you all along.”

“Stop saying that,” Annie shouts, sitting up again. “You’re going to be okay. I’m going to help you.”

“Blow the dam, mermaid girl.”

“Stop it.”

Hera gives her one last small smile before she winces and starts shaking.

“Did you hear me, Hera?” Annie shrieks. “I said stop.”

And she does. Her hand is still clutched in Annie’s, and her eyes are still dark and glistening, but the light is gone from them.

“STOP IT,” she screams at the top of her lungs.

The cannon goes off.


	16. The Calm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finnick gives his Top Eight interviews about Sebastian and Annie.

Even from where he’s sitting, Finnick can hear the crack from the 3 section to his left. Beetee’s glasses sit, ruined, in his hands. Wiress already has a hand on his shoulder. She came out from the rooms hours ago, but he refused to leave. He only stares straight ahead at the screen, watching as the hovercraft finally comes and takes Hera’s body for processing. He throws his glasses right at the screen. They bounce off and shatter on the floor. Wiress tries to talk to him, but he won’t listen. He stands stiffly and walks past Finnick, right to the aisle between 6 and 7.

“Poor man,” Mena whispers behind him.

“He knew her,” Finnick tells her. “He knew her before the Games. Helped raise her, he said.”

She only shakes her head. Mags taps on his arm and points to their right. Sebastian is still covered in blood from the boy from 5, and the mentors look horrified. They look up and see Finnick and Mags staring at them. They stare back. None of them know what else to do. They never do.

“Forget about them,” Mena whispers. “We have other things to focus on.”

“Like what?” Finnick asks.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Claudius Templesmith’s voice echoes around the room, like it is on the Trading Floor, like it must be in the Arena. “We now have our Top Eight!”

“Like that!” Mena trills, now back to normal. “You two have to prepare for your interviews! Or, um, Finnick does, at least. Two Tributes in the Top Eight is a big deal! The public will want to hear all about both of them!”

Finnick groans.

“I forgot about the interviews.”

Cresta’s red, puffy face fills the screen in front of him. Sebastian is talking to her in low, fast tones. He’s trying to be comforting, but he’s never had to be. He doesn’t know what to do or how to help. Hera would’ve known, or she would’ve had some idea. Sebastian is lost, though.

He never pictured this. He never imagined having to console people, no matter how many times he’d imagined winning the Games or just going to them. Finnick feels a twinge of sympathy for him. This kid had no idea what he was getting into. None of these kids had any idea what they were getting into. They have some idea, growing up, of the horror and pain and, yes, glory that awaits if they make it to the end, but it’s not the same. It’s not the same at all….

Mena prattles on for awhile about interviews and outfits. Finnick tunes her out, and Mags holds his hand and hums. It’s an old song. She used to sing it to him when he was little. He doesn’t remember the words anymore. He doubts she does, either. The tune is enough for them, though. He closes his eyes and folds himself awkwardly to lay his head on her shoulder. Just like when he was little, before he ever won the Games.

They pass a lot of the night this way. Parent interviews pop on and off a section of their screen. Sebastian’s parents gush about their young man. They’re so proud, and they love him so much, and they’re rooting for him. The same thing all the Career parents say every year.

“He looks just like his dad,” Finnick points out. Mags nods.

And he does. He and his dad have the same stocky build, the same tousled blond hair. He has his mother’s smile, though, and her eyes.

“He’s lucky to have parents who love him so much,” he murmurs.

“What am I?” Mags asks, and he kisses her cheek.

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

Cresta’s parents are next. Finnick’s stomach lurches. Her mom gives the usual Career speech.

“We just love her so much. She’s such a sweet girl, really, and we couldn’t be more proud of her,” she says, flashing a wide, white smile at the camera.

“Typical,” Finnick mutters. He looks at her father, then, who looks nothing like he should. His shoulders are slumped, there are circles under his eyes. His wife nudges him, and he clears his throat.

“We’re very proud of our daughter,” he says. “We want nothing more than to see her home safe.”

He’s pleading with the camera, like the parent of a Tribute from an outlying District. He’s not even pretending. He’s worried about Cresta. He doesn’t want to lose his daughter. Finnick’s stomach lurches again.

He gets a few hours of fitful sleep. He dreams about Cresta. He dreams he’s in the Arena with her, and he’s trying to save her, but she dies. She dies a hundred times, a hundred different ways. She gets stabbed, she starves, she drowns. An arrow flies right through her head. Every time, he tries to help her, but he gets there a second too late, and he wakes up crying.

“Rise and shine!” Mena sings, handing him a thermos of coffee like there’s nothing wrong. “The crew will be here soon, so you should eat something and get presentable.”

“The crew,” he mumbles. He’d completely forgotten about the interview. He sprints back to the room that’s his for the duration of the Games. As he pulls on a pair of shiny pants and a billowing shirt with a deep V-neck, he realizes this is the first time he’s actually been in this room. It’s nothing special by Capitol standards. There’s a huge soft bed, and lots of weird gadgets along the walls to control screens and clocks and alarms. He rubs some makeup over his face to hide his lack of sleep. The better he looks, the happier the audience will be. An unhappy audience means a dead Mags. He closes his eyes and recalls her humming the song last night.

He will not let her die. He rubs some gel through his hair and jogs back out to the main room.

He barely has time to eat a poppyseed muffin before the doors at the main aisle burst open, and people holding cameras come shuffling through, followed closely by none other than Caesar Flickerman.

“Well, this is it, folks!” he calls out with his usual enthusiasm. No one reacts to him. “The Top Eight! I need the mentors from Districts One, Two, Four, Six, Eight, and Ten to follow me now! If your partner is asleep or out on the Trading floor, go get them! Quickly now! We don’t have a ton of time! One of those kids could die any second now!”

He laughs at his own joke, but gets no other reaction. He covers by smoothing down his suit and turning to the nearest person carrying equipment.

Mags starts to stand up, but Finnick puts a hand over hers.

“You really shouldn’t. I don’t know what’s wrong, but you should rest.”

She shakes her head.

“Annie,” she says, pointing to the screen.

“I know. I’ll….” He looks up at the Arena. It’s morning now. The Careers moved their camp during the night. Cresta is sitting against a tree, staring at nothing, while Sebastian tries to pull her up. He remembers his dreams and represses a shudder. “I’ll talk for both of us Mags. Let me worry about her, like you worried about me.”

He pulls her hand into both of his. She smiles sadly and puts her other hand on his cheek. He kisses her forehead and stands up to join Caesar.

When all the willing mentors are gathered, the crew members take them all to a room at the very back of the viewing area, right behind the section for District 7. They assemble their staging area quickly. A simple backdrop, three long poles covered with lights, two chairs. A crew member comes around to fix each mentor with a little hidden microphone.

“Tough day for Beetee,” someone says next to him. He looks over and sees Cashmere, leaning back against the wall.

“He helped raise her,” Finnick says.

“I heard. I wasn’t being mean. I really mean that.”

“Okay.”

“Hey,” she lowers her voice and leans closer to him. “Are you doing okay? Annie’s still alive, you know.”

“Will you drop that?” he snaps. “You of all people—“

“Joking.” She throws her hands up. “Sorry. You’re right, though. I should know better. Be careful on air.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re going to have to talk about her for a few minutes without…” She purses her lips and searches for a word. “Reacting.”

“I’m a pretty good actor, Cashmere. In case you forgot.”

“Oh. Right. I must have.”

She pats him on the back and skips onto the little set to sit with her brother. The only time Finnick has ever seen people interview together is when Cashmere and Gloss do it. He watches them joke and laugh and brag about their Tributes (“she was knocked out while helping other people, and we couldn’t be more proud of her,” “he’s standing by his District Partner, and we are just so glad we get to keep fighting with him”) and, for the first time, really appreciates what Gloss went through. He won his own Games, and then immediately had to get his sister through them.

When they’re done, they leave. Cashmere gives him a quick nod before slinking out the door. He doesn’t even listen to Brutus and Enobaria talk about Romana. He’s sure it’s a lot of the same stuff, though. She makes District 2 proud! Things like that. It’s the same every year. It is for all of them, just with a few minor things changed to humanize that particular Tribute.

Soon enough, they’re done, and Finnick is being ushered by a crew member into his position across from Caesar. He sits silently for a moment while people fiddle with electronics and lights.

Someone signals to Caesar that they’re ready, and he pulls himself into character.

“Now, citizens of Panem, I’m sitting here with the man, the myth, the legend, Finnick Odair himself!”

Finnick smiles and gives a small wave to the camera. He can practically hear the screams and swoons from here.

“It’s good to be here, Caesar. And good to see you, as always,” he adds. The people like it when he’s polite.

“Ah! So sweet!” Caesar jokes. “Now, Finnick, you’ve got an interesting duo this year. Let’s talk about Sebastian Dehlia first, why don’t we?”

“Sebastian is tenacious. He’s strong. He’s a fighter, Caesar.” He thinks for a moment and adds, off script, “He reminds me of myself in a lot of ways.

“Well, that’s quite the compliment!” Caesar says. “How about that broken leg scare, huh?”

“Honestly, I’ve never been so afraid in my life,” Finnick says with a smile.

“Oh, what a kidder!” He laughs his obnoxious, too-loud-to-be-real laugh. Finnick just smiles wider. That’s part of his mask, too. He makes jokes, but he’s too good to laugh at them.

“In all seriousness, that was a scary moment for us,” he says. “I knew they’d handle it, though. I knew my Tributes would be able to get through something like that. It’ll take more than a broken bone to stop District Four this year.”

“Oh, I love that. I’m going to use that, if that’s okay.”

“What’s mine is yours, Caesar, you know that.”

He laughs again and reaches forward to place a hand on Finnick’s knee. He remembers one of his clients sliding her hand up his leg like that. He represses another shudder and his stomach turns over, but he doesn’t show anything.

“Now that you’ve brought up both Tributes, let’s talk about Annie Cresta. She’s a feisty one, isn’t she?”

“She’s….” He stops. The script doesn’t feel right now. The script could never capture what she’s really like. “She’s… something alright.”

“She’s more than something!” Caesar exclaims. “She’s the Capitol favorite, the current front-runner, and she’s just so much fun to watch! Come on, Finnick. You two knew each other before this year, right? Can’t you give us some little insight into her?”

He thinks about her dad, not bothering to cover his dark eyes, letting the whole country see how worried he is about his daughter. Finnick envies that.

“She hates sugar,” he says with a small smile. “She’s the best swimmer I’ve ever known.”

“Anything else you’d like to add about either of them before we say goodbye?”

He remembers the way she kissed him on the balcony the night before she went in the Arena. How soft she was, how gentle. No one had ever treated him that well, not when they were kissing him.

“If anyone deserves to come home, it’s her,” he says.

Silence greets that remark. The whir of the cameras and the electricity and the lights fill the room. Every single person is staring at him. Some of them are shocked, some sad, some scared.

“Alright, well,” Caesar says. “That’s all the time we have, Finnick. Best of luck to both of your Tributes!”

The cameras shut off. Finnick gets out of his chair and walks right out of the room before the mentors from 6 even step forward to take his place. He walks past his section, where Mena is sitting alone, picking at her nails. Mags must have gone back to bed. He walks straight to the District 1 section and sits down next to Cashmere.

“Finnick?” she asks. “What’s wrong?”

“I think I just got her killed.”


	17. The Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Careers get caught in a rainstorm and are forced to make camp.

“Annie, get up.”

She doesn’t move. She doesn’t even look up.

“Annie, we’ve been here for two days. We have to keep moving.”

She shakes her head and trails one fingertip through the dirt in front of her.

“At least eat something.”

Sebastian’s hands, rough but somehow still smooth, fold around her smaller ones. There’s bread in his hands. He’s trying to give it to her, but she pushes it away.

“I’m not hungry,” she says. She barely recognizes her own voice.

She can’t be acting this way. Not in front of the cameras, with the whole country watching. But, in the end, does it really matter? She’s going to die in here. She’s going to die surrounded by these trees and these people and then everyone will forget her. What does it matter if she’s a wreck? She could go out screaming or go out fighting, but, either way, she’s still going out. She takes the bread from Sebastian, though, and takes a bite. Anything to get him to leave her alone.

“I remember our deal,” he says, sitting next to her and pulling out his own loaf of bread.

“What deal?”

“Top six, we split.”

She looks up at him for the first time in days. He looks so different from the glowing young man who cheered when his name was called at the Reaping. It’s been barely over a week, but his hair is just a little bit longer. He doesn’t smile as much. His glow is gone. He’s not excited anymore.

“Yeah,” she replies. “Top six, we split.”

“That’s coming up,” he says. “We’re in the Top Eight now.”

“I know.”

“Should we plan or something? Decide when to go, or where? Do we each pick a side and just walk in opposite directions?”

“I don’t know,” she admits. _Take Sebastian and run_ , that’s what Hera said. But would he run with her? Would he insist on staying, or on separating from her? And why shouldn’t she trust the group, like Hera said? They listen to her. Why didn’t she explain what she meant? Why didn’t she let Annie help her? Why did she…. “I don’t know right now. Ask me again when we hit the top six.”

Sebastian nods and takes a big bite of his bread. Annie pulls off a little piece and nibbles at it.

“I’m sorry about Hera,” he says after a long time. “I know she was your friend.”

“How could I make friends in here?” she asks. “Hera was an ally. That’s all.”

Her heart aches just saying the words, but she knows it’s what she’s supposed to say.

“I think we’re friends,” Sebastian says. “Me and you, I mean.”

“Don’t say that.” Annie almost snaps, but he doesn’t flinch at all.

“I do. It’s really too bad we….”

“Had to meet here?” she finishes for him. He nods and takes another bite of bread. “Well, remember to speak well of me when you get home.”

“Annie….”

“Let’s move,” Holiday calls across their little group.

After the attack yesterday, after Hera…. They went back to the Cornucopia. Holiday was awake at that point, and the five of them left, immediately, to find a better camp. One with better coverage that would be harder to attack. Sebastian killed the boy from 5, and Romana wounded another one, so it seemed unlikely that the other group would attack again, but they all decided they’d rather be on the safe side.

“The idea is to never be in the same place for too long,” Romana explained to them before they even left the Cornucopia. “This will all come to a big fight in the end, but I think we need a few days to recover first. We need to heal and we need to plan.”

They walked until dawn, and when Holiday collapsed, they decided to break. They slept in staggered, fitful bursts until the sun was directly above them. They stayed for several more hours, but they need to move on now. They all shoulder packs, clamber to their tired feet, and keep walking. They’re heading towards the dam. Annie isn’t quite sure what that means, but it reminds her of what Hera said. Her last words.

_Blow the dam, mermaid girl._

She’s missed her opportunity for sneaking off, though. She should’ve run right after the cannon went off, but she didn’t. She stayed, and now it’s too late. Now the group has become a machine, and it won’t lose one of its parts without a fight. She’s with them until the end now, which may come sooner than she’d like.

It’s a strange thing, knowing she’s going to die soon. Everyone knows they’re going to die, but it’s a far away thing. It’s what happens when people get old. That’s how it should be known. She’s staring it in the face, though. It’s so close she can smell it, almost touch it.

And, now that it’s so close, she finally knows how she feels about it. She doesn’t want to die. She wants to go home. She wants to leave this Arena and go swimming in the ocean. She wants to see Finnick. She wants him to hold her, and she wants to hold him. It’ll never happen, though. Soon, her body will be pulled out of the Arena by a hovercraft. She’ll be put in a nice wooden box, and there’ll be a funeral. Her parents will be there, and Sebastian, and Mags. Maybe Twenny, the girl she volunteered for, will go. If she had just kept her hand down, she’d be at home right now. She’d be baking bread with her dad, or getting her hair brushed by her mom.

If she had kept her hand down, a 12-year-old girl would be in here. She’d probably be dead by now. Annie shudders.

_No_ , she thinks. _No matter what happens, I made the right choice. I saved a young girl from this. I did the right thing. Didn’t I?_

Did she really save Twenny? Is there really a way to save anyone?

Maybe Finnick will go to her funeral. Maybe he’ll even be sad. He loses Tributes every year, but maybe her death will actually mean something to him. He did kiss her back, after all, on the balcony, the night before the Arena. He’s been fighting for her life almost more than she has. He’ll surely care when she dies.

They stop at sunset to eat something. Holiday leans against a tree. The venom is clearly still giving her some problems, though she’s not hallucinating. Annie understands though. Her own joints ache, and the muscles in her legs, and she still has a pounding headache. Holiday was bitten twice, though. It must hurt a lot more for her. Annie opens her mouth, hoping to give her some advice, but stops herself. What would she say, really, that Holiday hasn’t already heard? Drink some water, eat something, and rest. That’s all she can offer her, really.

After a quick meal (Annie only has a few bites of bread and half an apple), Holiday pushes herself to her feet.

“Let’s keep going,” she says. “The sun isn’t all the way down yet, we can still—“

She stops suddenly and touches her forehead. Annie tenses and reaches for a knife.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

“Rain,” Holiday replies, and it starts pouring down, like it was waiting for someone to acknowledge it.

“Looks like we’re staying here,” Sebastian says. He almost sounds relieved. He reaches into his pack and pulls out a huge sheet of plastic. “Someone help me with this.”

Romana helps him, for the next hour or so, try to put up the tarp to keep them dry, but there aren’t any low branches to tie it to. The trees are relatively smooth here, which makes it difficult to make any kind of shelter. For them, at least. _We really should’ve paid more attention to the survival skills_ , Annie tells herself.

Eventually, Sebastian and Romana give up. They all move a little deeper into the trees. The rain still splatters them there, but the denser leaves make it a little better. Holiday starts shaking because of the cold, so Sebastian wraps the tarp around the both of them.

“The plastic will keep you dry, and I’ll keep you warm,” he says with a smile which she feebly returns. The day of walking has obviously taken its toll on her. Romana zips up her ragged jacket and crosses her arms. Ivory throws an apple to everyone, except Annie. He walks over to her, two apples in hand, and gives her one as he sits down next to her.

“I’m sorry about Hera,” he murmurs. “I mean, as sorry as we can be in here.”

Annie doesn’t say anything and takes a bite of her apple. It tastes like paper and mush, but she forces herself to swallow it and take another bite. The cannon rings, all around them. They look around the group at each other but otherwise don’t react.

“That would be my kill,” Romana says, almost smiling. “Looks like What’s-His-Name from Six couldn’t get any good medicine.”

_Amory_ , Annie thinks. _His name is Amory_.

The rain stops pretty quickly after that. Romana tries to make a fire, but the rain soaked through every piece of wood around them. A few minutes later, a parachute floats down for her, containing a box of matches and a few dry logs. A few minutes after that, they’re all huddled around a small flame. The warmth from it washes over Annie’s face and hands. She actually sighs as it seeps through her skin and into her bones. Sebastian starts to pull away from Holiday, but she shudders, so he stays with her. Romana unzips her jacket. Ivory stretches out in front of the growing flames.

The Anthem starts playing. They all look up. There’s only one face in the sky tonight. The boy from 6. Amory. Romana was right. She even looks a little smug, like her one kill makes up for anything.

“That means there’s seven of us now, right?” Sebastian asks. Ivory jerks awkwardly next to her, drawing her attention. He’s buried his face in his hands.

“I’m just getting something from my pack. No, I’m fine.”

Annie turns back to see Holiday standing up and moving, delicately, towards her bag, which she dropped some feet behind their little circle. She wasn’t comfortable wearing it inside the tarp.

It takes her two heartbeats to walk to her backpack, and two more to find what she’s looking for. When she straightens back up, the fire catches something shiny in her hands. It’s long, and thin, and she carries it straight down. Her back is still to the group.

Somehow, Annie knows what’s about to happen before it does. She tries to scream, once, twice, until her voice finally lets her.

“SEBASTIAN,” she shrieks, pushing herself up, but she’s too late.

Holiday swings her arms back and then down. Annie sinks to her knees in the wet ground as Sebastian’s blood sprays across her face. His head drops right from his shoulders and lands on the moist leaves, rolling a few times. It stops on its side, his eyes staring at her, two wide, unmoving orbs made of glass. His body thuds to the ground right where it is. Holiday turns and flashes her a wide grin.

“Well,” she says, wiping her machete on her pant leg. “I guess that makes six!”


	18. Isolation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annie runs off and figures out her next step.

Something whips Annie across the face, but she keeps running. She can’t stop now. She can hear someone calling her name. Ivory. He’s getting closer. She considers stopping to climb a tree for the night, but he would find her, eventually. She needs to think of a plan, but she can’t stop. If she stops, she’ll die.

In her mind, she replays the last few minutes. She skips over Sebastian, right to the part where Holiday looks directly into her eyes. Romana is closer, though, so she swings her machete straight down towards her. Ivory is still bundled in his knees. Romana brings her ax up right in time, shoves Holiday’s arms down, hard, and starts to attack.

And Annie runs, while she has the chance.

Holiday screams, “I’ve got this!” She screams, “You get mermaid girl!”

Something in Ivory must’ve snapped then, because he’s been running behind her, yelling her name.

The rain started pouring again, soon after she bolted. She’s making some nice footprints for Ivory to track, but she doesn’t care. She just needs to outrun him. She needs to be faster. That’s what matters right now.

The cannon goes off. Either Holiday or Romana must be dead. Annie hopes it’s Holiday. Anger bubbles in her stomach, and she stops running. She presses herself against a tree and stands, feeling her racing heart in her chest and letting the rain plaster her hair against her scalp and forehead.

“Annie!” Ivory’s voice, accompanied by squelching footsteps, comes to her through the rain. He’s still behind her. “Annie, where are you? Let me help you! That was all Holiday. Her crazy, stupid idea. I can help you, Annie, please, just come out!”

He sounds earnest, but she doesn’t move. Slowly, she slips out a knife from her belt. He’s stopped running. He walks right past her, but doesn’t look back. She crouches down, just in case, and starts to move after him. Her feet slip and sink into the mud, making her steps noisier than she’d like, but he doesn’t seem to hear her over the rain.

“Annie!” he calls out again. “We can take her down. Let me help you. She doesn’t deserve to win, you know that!”

 _He’s right_ , she tells herself, but she still walks behind him, as quietly as she can. After a few minutes, he stops completely. He rests his back against a tree and sinks down onto the ground. Annie tiptoes the short distance between them and crouches down on the other side of his tree.

He could be telling the truth. He could want to help her. He knows Holiday better than anyone. He said this was a plan. She was meaning to do this the whole time. She was waiting until the opportune moment. She was never their ally. Never really part of the group. Anger, hatred, and betrayal all boil through her veins.

Holiday doesn’t deserve to go home. The only two people who deserved to go home are dead. The least Annie can do, before she dies, is make sure the people who killed them don’t go home either. She pounces out from behind the tree and lunges for Ivory. He tries to push her away, but slips in the mud and falls. His sword is just out of reach, but it doesn’t matter much anyway. Annie straddles his chest, pinning him to the ground, and presses her knife against his throat.

“Annie,” he says, trying to stay calm. “You don’t want to do this. I’ve seen you. I know you. Y-you didn’t want to kill anyone, Annie. I know that. Put the knife down.”

“I don’t think so,” she replies, pressing it a little deeper. A pearl of blood appears under the point. He stops moving. “I have a few questions.”

“Ask away.”

“Did you know about this plan the entire time?”

“No.”

“Liar.”

“Fine, I knew.” His eyes find hers. She can’t make out the color in the dark, but she sees that they’re glistening. Rain smoothes his hair against his forehead. He’s not nearly so attractive at the moment. “I was trying to talk her out of it.”

“Why not tell the rest of us?”

“I wanted to, I did. I did! But she’s my District Partner. You can understand that, can’t you?”

“I can,” Annie hisses. _I think we’re friends_. She told him not to say that. She told him. “I really hope Holiday understands it, too.”

Fear fills Ivory’s eyes. He opens his mouth to protest, but Annie’s knife is already lodged in his throat. His blood seeps out over her hands, hot and thick. He grabs at her jacket, her arms, anything to make her stop. She twists the knife in place, and he coughs one last spray of blood across her face before he stops moving. A few moments later, the cannon goes off. She yanks the knife out of his neck, stands up, and keeps running.

Her breathing is more ragged than before. Adrenaline pumps through her body, driving her forward for several long hours. She can feel her hands shaking, then her legs, and then she knows she has to stop for the night. She’s far away from the campsite at this point. She doesn’t even know if Holiday is alive, but she won’t take the chance. She climbs up the nearest tree, as far up as her limbs will take her, and then collapses against the trunk.

The rain stops, at that exact moment, and Annie feels how tired she really is. The rain stripped away her skin and her muscles. She’s just a tired pile of bones, running from monsters.

“So why am I crying?” she asks herself out loud, and she’s startled to discover that she is. Her tears slide down her cheeks, leaving warm, salty trails over her cold face. Now that she’s stopped moving, everything hits her at once. She watches, again, as Sebastian’s head flies off his body. She feels his blood splatter against her. She sees Holiday’s smirk, hears her cold remark.

 _I guess there’s six now_ , she’d said. Well, now there’s four. In one day, they went from eight to four, and Annie cries harder for all of them. She looks down at her hands. The rain washed all the blood away, but she can still feel it. Ivory’s blood, Ivory’s scared face, Ivory’s frantic hands trying to stop her. She feels all of it.

A parachute lands on the branch in front of her, so suddenly that she jumps. She grabs the canister and looks up at the sky. The rain stopped, but the Arena is still cloudy. She must not have seen it coming.

She pries open the metal box, and sees a loaf of District 4 bread. It’s hot, fresh baked, and right out of the oven. She brings the loaf right up to her face and inhales deeply. Salt, and seaweed, and home. It must be from her parents. She looks back in the container, and sees a small piece of paper, folded over once, stuck to the bottom. She takes a bite of the bread, and starts to cry harder. It’s crusty and chewy, and just a little burned on the bottom. She takes another bite and pulls the note out to read it.

 _Cresta,_  
Don’t worry. I’ve got you.  
-Finnick

She holds it in her hand, reading it over and over. She almost laughs, but stops herself.

“Thank you,” she says, out loud, looking up at the sky. She can almost see him, staring back at her. She can feel his hands, holding hers. She can feels his soft lips on her cheek. She can see his small smile, and hear him saying her name. She eats the rest of the bread and drifts into an uneasy sleep.

She dreams of huge waves. Her hands are covered in blood, and she wraps them around Holiday’s throat. She feels her nails digging into soft skin, and then a wave sweeps them up and away. It drops her on the ground, gently, and she goes home, stepping over Holiday’s twisted and broken body. Her pretty blonde hair is tangled and wet. Annie smiles as she takes Finnick’s hand and steps out of the Arena, onto another wave, and into the open arms of her home.

When she wakes up, she knows exactly what she has to do.

The world around her is eerily quiet. There’s no sign of life anywhere around her. She climbs down the tree and stretches out her limbs. Her back cracks, and her hips. Her legs are burning from her run through the rain, and her hair is a tangled mess. She pulls it apart and ties it back up. A pain in her stomach reminds her that she needs to eat before she does anything.

The sky is clear and blue now, and she sees no sign of a parachute. The sponsors probably didn’t like seeing her run away and cry. They want a big blow out. A fight. Something entertaining. She’ll have to fend for herself for a little bit.

She stops for a moment to take inventory. Luckily, she never took off her backpack yesterday. She still has all her supplies. The salve is almost out, but she doesn’t have any injuries. Two apples. She bites into one now, but only eats half of it. She doesn’t know the next time she’ll get a parachute. She’ll have to make these apples last. She also has a roll of wire, and a canteen. And, of course, her three remaining knives, still secured on her belt.

She tries to think back to training. How to make a wire trap for animals. How to survive out here without sponsors. She can’t remember a thing. She starts to walk and tries to think back to training days at school, to remember anything they may have said about wilderness survival. Nothing. All their training was centered around combat. Hera was good at traps. She didn’t think she would live long enough to have to remember how to do them.

“Stupid,” she mutters to herself. “That was stupid.”

She walks with the wire in her hands, practicing different loops, hoping to jog something loose. Nothing. As she gets closer to the clearing, though, she slips the wire into her pocket. She has to focus now.

She stops at the edge of the treeline. The Cornucopia sits, just in front of her, bright and glittering in the mid-morning sunlight. She sits and waits for a long time, half an hour maybe, and just watches the scene. Nothing moves. Nothing makes any noise, except for a few birds.

Even if she can remember how to make a trap, she doesn’t remember seeing any animals. She’s going to starve either way. Maybe she can end this first.

She takes a tentative step into the clearing and looks around, hand on the hilt of a knife. No other movement. She takes a few steps and stops again, and is rewarded with stillness and silence. She walks the rest of the way, glancing around every few steps. Her foot scrapes across one of the metal platforms that raised the Tributes into the Arena just over a week ago, and she crouches down by it. Hera said she would dig up the mines, but which side are they on? Or are they all around, in case a Tribute steps off to any direction?

Having no other tools, she digs her fingers into the dirt on the side closest to the Cornucopia. It cakes in her nails, but easily crumbles beneath her hands. In a matter of minutes, she has a pretty sizable hole. In a few more, she hits something hard and unearths a mine. It’s smaller than she expected. It fits snugly in the palm of her hand, just a dirty silver sphere. She fits it in her jacket pocket and moves to the next platform, and then the next one, and then again until her pockets are bulging with mines.

One of these things can turn a person into a swipe of blood inside a crater. Four should be enough to blow a dam. Plus, it feels appropriate. Four mines for four Tributes.

She shoves her hands in her pockets and jogs back into the woods. Once she’s in the treeline again, she relaxes a little.

_Blow the dam, mermaid girl._

And she will.

She reaches the dam many hours later. The sun is lower in the sky. If she had to guess, she’d say it’s mid-afternoon. She buries the mines quickly, in four different places. She’s starting to feel good about her handiwork when she remembers that she has no way to detonate them. Hera was going to make a remote, but Hera died. She didn’t show her how to make one. She didn’t show her anything.

_Blow the dam, mermaid girl._

But how?

She sits down right where she is, and eats the second half of the apple from this morning, even though it’s gone all brown and a little dry from a day inside her backpack. The sun goes down as she throws the core into the trees. The Gamemakers must be getting impatient. She still doesn’t move. It’s freezing, but she doesn’t light a fire. She sits and watches the sky until the anthem plays.

Three faces.

Ivory. Romana. Sebastian.

Holiday is still alive. She killed Romana, and she’s still out there, somewhere. She’s probably looking for Annie, hoping to kill her, but Annie won’t give her that satisfaction. She’s going to kill Holiday.

A bubble forms somewhere inside her. Annie feels it, and she feels it move up her body, until it’s in her throat, and she has to let it into the air. It starts as a scream, but quickly turns into a laugh, and then into sobs.

She couldn’t save him. She couldn’t get him home. She got so close, but he died anyway. She can’t save anyone, not even herself. She probably didn’t even save Twenny, back in 4.

She’s going to kill Holiday.

A twinkling star above her gets larger and larger, closer and closer. She doesn’t realize, until she’s reaching up to grab it, that it’s a parachute.


	19. Unspeakable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finnick goes to great measures to ensure Annie's safety. (Warnings for death and violence, flashbacks to sexual assault, ptsd.)

“He looks so small,” Mena says. There’s no song in her voice. Today, she is small, sad, and scared, just like the rest of them. She looks close to tears, but she keeps them back, probably through sheer force of will. She can’t smudge her makeup. Today, her eyes are lined with thick black lines, her eyelids painted with a deep purple that matches her dress and lips. All of it is immaculate. It must have taken forever to apply.

She does the same thing every year. They go to see their Tributes, and she pretends to almost cry. Finnick has never actually seen her cry. She looks different now, though. Her sadness feels more real. Is it because she was more attached to Sebastian than any of the others? Or is it because of Cresta?

A lot of the sponsors have gotten that idea. Her stunt last night, the way she ran off, reminded them all of the real stakes of the Games. It’s not about entertainment. It’s about survival. If there’s anything the Capitol citizens hate, it’s being reminded of the pain they’re putting these people, these children, through. So as soon as she screamed, as soon as she ran from the clearing instead of fighting through it, the sponsors stopped coming to him.

They flocked to Cashmere and Gloss. They were impressed with Holiday. She showed real initiative by slaughtering her allies. Sure, it was backhanded and a little cowardly, but it shows that she knows where she is and where she wants to go. Plus, it’s fun for them. They loved watching it all go down. They loved seeing Sebastian, his Tribute, get decapitated. They loved watching Holiday cut Romana down after a few minutes of almost lazy fighting on her part.

She was waiting for the Top 7, and now she’s single-handedly brought herself into the home stretch. She got the lowest score out of the Careers, which she’d done on purpose. Watching her block Romana’s attacks with a few flicks of her wrist was nothing short of expert knowledge.

If he were a sponsor, he’d put all his money on Holiday right now. The girls from 8 and 10, Lark and Andrea, separated days ago, and Cresta ran off alone with barely any supplies. Meanwhile, Holiday has managed to regroup and set up a nice little base camp for herself.

The other three are stressed, exhausted, and hungry. Two of them are injured. Holiday will be on a train back to 1 within a few days.

Unless he can step up. Unless he can fight and charm and schmooze his way into getting some supplies to Cresta.

She might’ve gone hungry last night, if it wasn’t for Beetee.

“For Hera,” he’d said, pressing the token into Finnick’s hands. Once both Tributes from a District are dead, the mentors get one token of their choice, per day, to help another. “If it wasn’t for Annie, she wouldn’t have made it as far as she did. Hopefully this will be enough to repay her for that.”

He’d sent the note with the bread. He shouldn’t have, but he had to. No, he didn’t have to. He _wanted_ to. He remembered when she saved him. He jumped from a cliff, hoping he would die, but he didn’t. She pulled him back to shore, barely conscious, and he remembered what she was saying to him the whole swim back.

_Don’t worry. I’ve got you._

She probably doesn’t even remember it, but he does. He’ll never forget it.

He shakes his head and returns to the present. Mena is still staring down at Sebastian, laid out on the table before them. Mags is holding his hand, as if he’s sleeping, as if she’s just saying goodnight. His head has been sewed back into place with thick, ugly stitches. They do clean up the bodies, if possible. That’s one small thing he can say for them.

This boy deserved better than this. He was a year older than Finnick was when he won, but he was still a boy. Just as Finnick was. Just as Finnick _is_.

“We could’ve lost two Tributes yesterday,” he murmurs. Mena reaches out, like she’s going to touch his shoulder, then changes her mind.

“We didn’t,” she whispers back.

“But we could have.”

Mags smiles and takes his hand in her empty one, but he pulls away from her.

“Enough,” Mena snaps. He can’t remember ever hearing her so angry. “We’ve lost Sebastian, but Annie still needs us. She needs _you_. Stop throwing yourself a pity party. You didn’t kill Sebastian. If… if Annie…. That won’t be your fault.”

“Won’t it?” he asks, and the truth of that hits him for the first time. If Cresta dies, it will be his fault. It’ll be because he didn’t fight hard enough. He didn’t train her well enough. He was too concerned with her safety to actually teach her how to stay safe.

“Oh, really?” Mena crosses her arms and looks at him through too-long eyelashes dusted with glitter. “Did you start the Hunger Games, Finnick? Did you force Annie to volunteer for this? I know you care about her, but stop being so stupid about it. If you want to see her again, go fight for her. Don’t just stand here feeling bad about it.”

They stare at each other for a long moment. His eyes sting, but he can’t cry. He looks to Mags, who nods at him.

“She’s right,” she mutters, and Finnick lets her take his hand this time.

“I know she’s right,” he says.

“Then do something,” Mena says. Her mask is completely off now. She almost looks scared. “Save her. Because that girl…” She points to the little screen in the room that shows Cresta digging around the platforms that brought the Tributes into the Arena. “That girl is not going to save herself. She’s snapped.”

“Stop.”

“She’s not a Victor—“

“I said stop.”

“—she’s barely a Tribute at this point.”

“STOP.”

Before Mena can say another word against Cresta, he pulls his hand away from Mags and storms out of the room. He’ll get her sponsors. She has to win. She has to come home. Mena’s wrong, the whole country is wrong about her. She’s strong. She’ll fight through this and she’ll come home. He can’t think about anything else right now. There is no other possible outcome.

The sponsors seem to disagree with him, though. Gloss is on the floor tonight, accepting gifts from almost everyone who sees him. He nods at Finnick when they pass each other. Those same sponsors, when they walk away from him, turn and see Finnick, and leave after an awkward glance or a murmur to their friends. They’ve backed the Tribute they want to win. They have no other business here, and he’s making them uncomfortable. Cresta is making them uncomfortable.

She eats that night, again, because of Beetee. Finnick doesn’t write a note this time, just sends her the food. He goes back to the waiting room and watches the screens all night. He ties knots, or tries to. Three loops. Pull both ends through. End up with nothing but a pile of rope. He ties a quick noose, the first knot he learned after his Games. There are other Mentors in the room, though, so he unravels it immediately after.

When the sun rises in the arena, he shoves the rope in his pocket and walks back to the trading floor. The entire space smells like sweat and powder. The screens above the glass walls show only four people now. Holiday is prepping a backpack. She’s probably going to kill someone else today. Lark is digging through the Cornucopia for more arrows. She only has one in her quiver. Andrea is still sleeping, her injured leg propped up on a rock. Cresta, though, didn’t sleep at all. She’s inching her way down her tree, over to the dam to check the mines she planted.

The mines make him feel uneasy. He doesn’t know what she’s planning, or thinking. Well, that’s not true. He knows she’s planning to blow it, like Hera told her to. He doesn’t know what she’s thinking, and that makes him nervous. If she floods the whole Arena, she could die, too. Is that what she wants? He doesn’t know what to do, or how to help her. He wishes he could talk to her, just for a minute, just to touch base.

“You should send her what she needs,” someone says just behind him, and he has to hold back a shudder. He knows that voice. He’ll never forget that voice.

“Vera,” he says, turning to greet her. His first client. She looks exactly the same as she did five years ago. The same cold blue eyes, the same thin lips that she’s had filled out. The same small frame, all bones and angles and muscle. She’s dressed simply today, as she always is. Short black dress, tall black boots, and a string of pearls around her throat.

“Finnick,” she purrs. “It’s been too long.”

She stands on tiptoe to kiss him on each cheek.

“Always a pleasure to see you.”

She smirks.

“Interesting choice of words. Could we speak somewhere more private?”

He gives her a curt nod and leads the way, back through the crowd, to the waiting room. His blood has turned to cold water. His entire body is made out of porcelain now. This is always how he feels around his clients. He hates this feeling. He’s barely breathing as he walks through the other mentors, back to the District 4 quarters.

This is only the second time he’s been in the apartment in the past week or so. Has it only been a week? He’s beginning to lose track of time. The door clicks shut behind him and he turns around.

“How can I help you, Vera?”

“It’s more a matter of how I can help you, but…” She crosses the short distance between them and begins to unbutton his shirt. “I think this can be mutually beneficial, don’t you?”

Leave the room, he tells himself. Leave your body. Get out.

“Well, how can you help me?”

She yanks his shirt off and places his hands on her waist. She reaches up to wrap her hands around the back of his neck.

“Your girl is dying out there, we both know that. Her plan is a good one, though.” She plants kisses along his collarbone. “Blowing the dam would wipe the rest of them out, and fast. Holiday is terrified of water, and I don’t think there’s a lot of opportunity to go swimming in Eight or Ten. Unzip my dress.”

He does. She shrugs out of it and it crumples to the ground.

“What’s your point?” He doesn’t move. This is part of the game for Vera. He doesn’t move while she uses him as she likes. His other clients expect him to do other things, move certain ways, make certain noises. They like to think it’s real. Vera’s never been one for pretending she’s something she’s not, though.

“My point,” she murmurs against his chest. “Annie clearly doesn’t know what she wants to do beyond blowing up the dam. Depending on what she does or doesn’t do, we could have no Victor this year. And we both know how much Snow will like _that_.”

“He won’t.”

“Exactly.” She slips out of her lingerie. “Now. We both know she could win this, or I wouldn’t be here. I think the best way to help her now would be to send her things she needs.”

“Like what?”

Her fingers brush along the waistband of his pants.

“A fuse. Some matches. I’d be happy to provide those things, plus food and water for the remainder of the Games of course.”

“You have a price, though,” he says. She pushes him into a seated position on the couch.

“Luckily, you already know what it is.”

She kisses him, and he kisses her back. She tastes like mint and smoke, and he quickly pushes her away.

“Why?”

“Why back her? Well, like I said, she could win. And I’d rather have her in my bed than that red head or the monster that Cashmere has this year.”

He freezes. He can feel each slow heartbeat in his chest.

“No,” he says through gritted teeth. _Careful_ , he tells himself. _You know what she’s capable of. You know what she’s done_. And then he knows his angle.

“No?” She laughs. “Finnick, I don’t think I need to remind you of the position you’re in.”

She bends down to kiss him again, and he shoves her off his lap, onto the floor. He pulls his pants up from around his ankles and buttons them up.

“I said no,” he tells her.

“I guess you don’t want her to win then. I guess you don’t want a District Four victory.”

He remembers Sebastian saying that on the train. He remembers Cresta saying it when she volunteered.

“I do,” he says, as calmly as possible. “You’re still going to help me.”

She stands up, laughing again, and crosses her arms across her naked torso.

“Why would I do that? You’ve refused the price. You know as well as I do that I’ll go make the same offer to Cashmere, and—“

“I thought you wouldn’t want Holiday. I thought she was a monster.”

She purses her lips and pulls her underwear back on. She has no problem with it, despite her boots.

“Okay,” she says. “I’ll bite. You obviously have a counter proposal.”

“You still back her,” he says. “Or I’ll tell President Snow.”

She barks out a laugh.

“Tell him what?” she asks.

“Everything,” he answers, and the smile slides off her face.

“You—“

“I would. I think he’d be really interested to learn some of the things you planned for him. If I’m not mistaken, most of those plans could be carried out at any time. And, of course, there’s always your poor husband. Wasn’t he a childhood friend of Snow’s? He might be very interested to learn how he actually died.”

“Enough,” she snaps. They stare at each other for a long moment. She’s angry. She could kill him right here and now. _Or she could try_ , he tells himself. Her eyes are tracing over his body, remembering, for once, all the things he did in the Arena. She almost looks afraid.

“Do we have a deal?” he asks.

She picks her dress up off the ground and pulls it over her head.

“Fine,” she spits. “Yes. Meet me on the trading floor in ten minutes. I’ll have the right tokens for you.”

She slinks back to the door. Finnick wants to pick up his shirt and put it back on. He wants to sink down and be alone with his anxiety. He doesn’t move, though. He crosses his arms and stares her down.

“I should have killed you after I told you those things,” she says at the door.

“Yeah,” he says. “You should’ve.”

She slams the door behind her. Finnick sits back down on the couch and lets himself cry, just this once.


	20. Refuge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything comes to a head. (Warnings for violence, death, and suicidal thoughts/ideations.)

Annie wakes up before the sun rises. The air is different today. The shadows are different today. Everything is different today. Her supplies are down, way down, but they’ll be enough. She has some bread, an apple, a piece of hard cheese. Her canteen is full. She has a book of matches, a gift from a sponsor, and a long spool of wire meant for traps. She eats all the food, quickly, drinks down half her water, and shimmies down the tree she slept in.

Today, she knows, is the day she dies.

_Blow the dam, mermaid girl._

She is. She will.

She lands on the ground, almost silently, and stares straight at the dam. It looks taller today than it did before. Of course, it could be. The Gamemakers like doing things to mess with Tributes. Even just that little bit is enough to throw her off.

There’s been no cannons in two days, not since she killed Ivory. They’ll be getting restless. They want their entertainment. They want their favorite show. Annie’s toiling and digging might have bought them a little time. She can almost hear Caesar Flickerman’s voice narrating her actions to the audience.

“Look at the mermaid girl now!” he must be saying. “She’s a long way from water, and it looks like she’s all dried up!”

_Well, Caesar_. The mermaid girl doesn’t like being a mermaid girl. The mermaid girl is taking the Arena into her own hands. The mermaid girl is going to die as Annie Cresta.

She decided that yesterday, when her search for some sort of fuse took her into the woods. She’s tied herself in knots over the decision, but she’s going to stick to it. She is going to die. She is going to flood the Arena. It’s going to kill all the remaining Tributes. She’s doing it on her terms.

This year, no one is going home. May the odds be ever in your favor.

She knows why Finnick sent her matches, but nothing to light. He wants her to live. He wants to help her, but not too much. If she sets the mines off now, she’ll get her way. Everyone will die. Panem won’t have its newest Victor.

It could be more than that. He could want her to live because he wants her to live. That idea would’ve made her stomach jump and her face flush just a few days ago. Everything is different now. She wishes Finnick didn’t care. She wishes he’d let her die in peace. Knowing that he’s still fighting for her makes it harder for her to plan her own death.

She doesn’t really need a fuse. She could take a knife, hit one of the mines, and _boom_. It would go off. The rest would go off. She’d be dead in a heartbeat, and the rest soon after. But, if she’s not the last one alive, how can she ensure that there’s no Victor? No, she needs a fuse. Something that will delay the mines going off until she can get a safe distance away. She’ll climb a tree, or the tallest thing she can find, and once she hears three cannons, she’ll drown herself. That’s the plan. That’s how it’ll happen. But, first, she needs a fuse.

She shoulders her pack, considerably lighter without the food, and walks into the woods. There has to be something in here. There has to be something.

The sun above her moves quickly through the sky as she walks. Within an hour, it’s sunset. This is it, she thinks. They’re ending this tonight. They’re ending it as soon as they can. The Capitol must be restless. The Gamemakers must be bored. The country wants their Victor, and they’ll get it soon.

Or so they think.

A loud bell rings out across the Arena, and then Annie is screaming. She’s on the ground, her hands jammed over her ears. The noise is back. The head-splitting noise. The one that echoes through her whole body, and vibrates through her bones. It enters her ears like a knife. She’s positive her ears are bleeding. Then it stops. Her body aches, but it’s not hurt at all. She jumps to her feet and pulls out one of her knives. That noise only happens before something bad happens. Some weird twist or creature.

That noise means death, and she can’t die just yet.

There’s a crack, somewhere ahead of her. Something is moving towards her, and fast, almost like it knows she’s there. It probably does. It was probably sent just for her.

She doesn’t want to see what it is. She turns and runs without another glance. She hurdles through the trees. Loose twigs on low-hanging branches catch her face or her arm as she runs, but she ignores all of it. She can still hear whatever is chasing her, crashing along behind her. It’s growling at her, or maybe it’s hissing. She can’t really tell over her own heartbeat pounding in her ears. She imagines she can feel its hot breath on her neck. That thought alone is enough to keep her running.

She stumbles out of the treeline, into the clearing in the middle of the Arena. The moon shines down on the Cornucopia. She doesn’t stop running until she hits something, hard, and it knocks her to the ground.

Knife still in hand, she jumps immediately back to her feet. She looks behind her, expecting the thing chasing her to jump out and kill her, but it’s gone. A long, scaly tail disappears back into the woods, where she thinks she came from.

Behind her, there’s the creak of a bow.

“Drop the knife,” a voice demands. “Turn to look at me.”

Her knife makes a small _thud_ when it hits the dirt. She turns, slowly, and sees Lark standing before her. She hasn’t seen the girl from 8 up close before now. She has a soft face. Her eyes are piercing and hard, but scared. Her bow arm is shaking. Her arrow is pointed right at Annie’s face.

“If you miss, again, from here, that would be pretty embarrassing,” she says.

Lark pulls her arm back a little further. Annie feels her back straighten on its own. She can’t die yet. Not yet. She has to die last.

“I’m not going to miss.”

“Let’s hope you’re right. You killed my friend. If you miss, I have no qualms about killing you.”

Lark laughs.

“I’ve been watching you,” she says. “Or, I was. During training, and in the beginning. Whenever I could. I saw you on the platform. You don’t want to kill anyone. You’ve gotten by this far on pure luck.”

Annie doesn’t reply. She stares into Lark’s eyes, daring her to let go of the string. The handle of her last knife pokes into her spine. Her hands are out at her sides, but she could reach it. Hit the ground, kick her legs out. If she can get Lark on her back, she can still do this.

Lark doesn’t get the chance to shoot.

The cannon goes off. It sounds around the entire Arena. Lark jumps and loses her aim. Annie kicks right at her knee. As she falls, she fires, way off to the side. Annie kicks the bow out of her hand and pulls her last knife off her belt. The next thing she knows, the hilt is buried in Lark’s side, between two of her ribs. She punches Annie square in the jaw and tries to roll over. Annie catches her first, shoves her back, and jabs the knife straight through her throat.

Lark coughs, and Annie feels something wet and hot hit her face. Blood. The cannon goes off, ringing across the entire Arena like it did before. Her knife is still in the girl’s throat. She’s seen this before, or something like it, more than once. She killed Ivory like this, but it’s not just him. It’s more than that.

For the first time in days, she remembers Finnick’s Games, and the kill that haunted her throughout training. His trident knocked aside, the boy coming towards him, ready to kill him. The knife in his hand, then in the boy’s ribs, then blood sprayed across his face. A young boy’s dying breath. The last trace of him. Then a cannon. It’s all the same. She’s the same. These Games are the same as his.

Annie yanks her knife out and clambors to her feet. When she glances back at Lark’s body, she sees the boy Finnick killed. She closes her eyes and tries to wipe the blood from her face, but it only smears, in streaks, over her skin and jacket sleeve. Now, she knows, she looks wild. She looks like a Tribute, or even a Career.

When she opens her eyes, the boy is gone, and it’s just Lark on the ground. But it’s still all the same. A hovercraft floats overhead, lowers a long metal claw for Lark’s body, then disappears. Just like it did for the boy Finnick killed. Just like it did for every Tribute before Lark. Just like it will do for every Tribute after her.

She’s almost done now, though. Just one more person, and then she can die.

She turns to head back to the dam, to figure out some way to make the mines go off without killing herself, but she stops short when she hears the screams. From the other side of the clearing, she can see a flash of silver and a stream of blonde hair.

All rational thought leaves her head, and, as she starts to run, fear and adrenaline and fire all pump through her. She wants to live. She wants to go home. She wants to kill Holiday and see Finnick. Her hands hit flesh and hard bone, and then she’s careening to the ground, on top of Holiday. She can barely see anything. Something hits her in the head, in the jaw, in the ribs, but she keeps fighting. Somewhere in the struggle, she rights her arm and stabs it down, blade first. Something catches her elbow before she can hit anything.

“Hey, just calm down a second,” Holiday says. “Let’s talk about this.”

“You killed Sebastian. You were planning to kill all of us from the beginning.”

“Well, not all of you. I thought more of the Careers would be dead by the top seven, that’s for sure.”

She could kill her now and go home.

“Why?”

“ _Why_?” Holiday mimics. She tightens her grip on Annie’s arm. “You can drop your sunshine and happiness act, mermaid girl; we’re the only two left. You know exactly why. I want to go home. Do I really have to spell that out? You were right, you know: The best way to survive is in a group.”

“What do you mean?” Holiday’s other arm is pinned under Annie’s knee. One quick motion, and she could have her free hand around her throat.

“I thought you were one of the smart ones.” She rolls her eyes and tries to squirm through her legs. Annie presses herself down harder. Holiday winces and stops moving. “Look, it’s nothing personal. Does that help you out at all? I was going to let you all die naturally until the top seven, but, well….”

“Well, what?”

“You had to invite Hera into the group.”

Annie’s heart skips a beat.

“You can’t have killed Hera. You were sick, you—“

“No, I didn’t kill Hera. I’m seriously disappointed in you right now, Annie. You were supposed to be the one to beat.”

She grabs Holiday by the throat.

“Get to the point,” she snaps.

“I killed Titus.” Holiday smiles. Annie lets go of her throat. “I can’t believe none of you figured that out. I knew Hera would get the blame, even though he was good as dead anyway. If Romana killed her, that would be one less person for me to kill.”

“All this?” Annie yells. “All this just to win?”

“Give me a _break_ ,” Holiday yells back, shoving her body up and making Annie lose her grip. “Are you kidding me? Look at where we are. I don’t know what’s been going through your head this entire time, but this is the Hunger Games. You’ve killed people, too, _mermaid girl_. Don’t act like you’re so precious and innocent. No matter who wins now, we’re both killers. If you walk out of here and live for another fifty years, you’ll still die a killer, same as me.”

Annie lets go of her throat and sits back on her heels, still straddling Holiday’s chest.

“You’re right,” she says softly.

“See? So, go ahead. Kill me. Kill me and go home.”

She drops her hand from Annie’s elbow and lays back. For a split second, she’s sure that she’s going to kill Holiday. But she stops herself.

“No,” she murmurs. “No, I don’t deserve to go home.” She stands, slowly, knife still poised over Holiday. “Nobody does.”

She slams her foot into Holiday’s ribs, then takes off in the other direction, towards the dam. She hears shouts behind her, and then more running. This is good. Holiday will chase her to the dam. Maybe she’ll also die in the blast.

The ground moves beneath her feet, throwing her to the ground, just inside the treeline. There’s a loud crack. The noise comes back, stronger than ever. _This is it,_ she thinks. It pounds into her skull like a drum. Her head is going to explode.

Then it stops. There’s another loud crack, the sound of rock crumbling, water rushing fast. They’ve blown the dam for her. She turns around. Holiday’s eyes are wide with fear.

Annie starts to run then, back in the other direction. She passes Holiday, who’s frozen in place. For half a moment, she considers stopping, trying to get her to move, but she keeps going. She reaches the Cornucopia and scrambles up it, clutching the edge as tightly as possible.

The water brushes over the trees. It presses down towards the clearing on all sides. Annie’s never seen a tidal wave before. It barrels into the clearing. The sight of it triggers something in Holiday. She starts to run, but it’s too late. The water sweeps her up, and then she’s gone.

Annie braces herself on the Cornucopia, but it’s not enough. The water hits her, and strips her off the structure like paint. Her limbs flail out. She’s plunged down into cold blackness, but she kicks herself up to the top.

Over the sound of rushing water, a cannon goes off.

Is that for her? Is she dead? It didn’t hurt as much as she thought it would.

A garbled voice speaks, coming from the trees as she’s rushed past them.

“Ladies and gentlemen…”

A bright light opens up above her.

_I did it. No one wins_.

“…Victor of the 70th…”

A dark shape appears in the light.

_This isn’t right, this isn’t right_.

“…Annie Cresta!”

_No, not me. I’m dead. We’re all dead. There’s no winner this year_.

She grabs onto a nearby tree. The water is still rushing around her, beating around her head, trying to drag her back in.

_I should let go. I should let it drag me_.

A metal clamp tightens around her.

_That’s the hovercraft, pulling my body out. I_ am _dead_.

It starts to raise her up. She licks her lips. They taste weirdly sweet. Like Finnick, when she kissed him.


	21. Waiting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finnick waits for Annie in the hospital

“She’s this way, Mr. Odair.”

He makes a face.

“Please, just Finnick.”

The nurse nods and leads him through the congested lobby, full of lights and people shouting his name, into an elevator. They go up three floors, and walk out into a room that isn’t clogged with cameras and Capitol citizens. He lets out a deep breath he didn’t know he took. He doesn’t have time to really take in his surroundings, though, because the nurse keeps moving, takes a sharp left, and leads him down a short hallway. She points at the nearest room, and there she is. He can see her through the glass wall. He pushes the door open, ignoring shouts from the doctors surrounding her.

“Finnick!” she calls out. Her whole face lights up when she sees him. She pushes herself out of bed and practically throws herself across the room, into his arms. He can feel his arms shaking, but he feels light at the same time. He’s never been so relieved in his life.

He wraps himself so tightly around her his fingertips almost touch his own ribs. Without even a second glance to see who’s watching, he kisses along her neck, up to her jaw, across her cheek, and then, finally, he finds her lips….

“Finnick?” the nurse asks.

He blinks. Annie Cresta isn’t in his arms. She’s thrashing in her bed, screaming and flailing, as doctors try to sedate her. His heart aches just seeing her like that.

“Yeah, sorry,” he mutters. His voice is thick. He clears his throat.

“As you can see,” the nurse continues, “she didn’t sustain a lot of injuries. Minor scratches that we patched up in the hovercraft, when she was unconscious. Now, though—“

“Now she’s awake,” he finishes, and the nurse nods.

“She doesn’t want us coming near her. We were hoping, maybe…?”

Finnick nods and presses his hands together. What he wouldn’t give to be able to tie knots right now.

“Yeah, I’ll see what I can do,” he says.

The nurse enters the room, Finnick right behind her. The doctors all step back when they see him.

“Mr. Odair—“

“We’ve tried everything—“

“She won’t—“

“She thinks she’s still in the Arena—“

He puts his hands up.

“Step back,” he says, keeping his voice under control. “Let her breathe. Think about what she’s just been through.”

The doctors all move away from her. One of them puts down a syringe, and starts towards the door.

“We’ll give you a minute alone with her,” she says. “Just, please, see if you can calm her down.”

He nods as he sits down on the side of her bed. She watches him with wide eyes, her hands digging like claws into her sheets. The door clicks behind him, closing behind the doctors, and she sits straight up.

“Finnick,” she gasps, grabbing his face. Her hands feel his cheeks, move around to his neck, stretch up through his hair. “They got you? How could they put you in here?”

“Cresta,” he murmurs. “You’re not in the Arena.”

She stops moving and looks at him sadly.

“Then I’m dead? It worked?”

He reaches up to take her wrists in his hands.

“You’re not dead.”

“Then I’m still in the Arena, I—“

“Cresta—“

“Either I’m there or—“

“ _Cresta_ —“

“Or I’m dead, there’s no—“

“ _Annie_ ,” he says, a little more sharply than he intended, and she stops. “You’re not in the Arena, you’re not dead, you’re not dreaming, you’re not anything like that. You’re alive. You’re safe.”

She shakes her head. Tears fill her eyes, but they don’t fall.

“I’m not safe,” she whispers.

“You’re here,” he tells her. “Annie, you’re here with me.”

She’s right. She’s not safe. But he can’t tell her. Not now, when she’s in this state. He brushes his thumbs over her hands, over and over. Something in her relaxes, just a little.

“I’m out?” she breathes.

“You’re out.”

“I’m home?”

“Not yet. You’re in a hospital in the Capitol. You’ll be going home once you’re feeling better. Don’t you want to go home?”

“I’m not supposed to.”

He pulls her hands away from his head and holds them close to his chest.

“You _are_. You _are_ supposed to.”

She shakes her heads.

“No winner this year,” she whispers. A strand of hair falls across her eyes. He reaches over to tuck it behind her ear. It’s not as soft as before. He remembers the night before she went into the Arena. He ran his hands through it when they kissed. His fingers snagged on a lot of tangles, but it was still soft.

“I know,” he whispers back. “I know, but you survived. You made it out. And these doctors want to help you.”

She shakes her head.

“No, they—“

“They want to help,” he says, firmly. “They fixed me up after my Games, too. And I’m still here, see? You’ll be okay. I promise you. You’re safe.”

“You’re safe,” she repeats, pulling one hand free to smooth it across his face again. Then her eyes go wide. “Finnick, my dress.”

“What dress?”

“My grandmother’s dress. I left it on the train, I only just remembered. Finnick, we have to get it. My mom will kill me if I lose it.”

She starts to cry. He pulls her into his chest and wraps his arms around her.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs. “We’ll get it. You need to calm down, though, Annie. You need to let the doctors help you. Then we’ll get your dress. Okay?”

She nods against his chest. He helps her lay back down. He kisses her hand and stands up.

“Don’t leave,” she says, clutching his hand tighter.

“I have to for a little bit,” he says. “The doctors will knock you out, and I’ll be here when you wake up. Okay?”

She nods again. He squeezes her hand and walks out of the room. The doctors rush back in before the door can even close behind him. He slumps against the wall and watches them through the glass. She lies back, calmly, and lets them stick a needle in her arm. Her eyes find his in the split second before she passes out.

He walks out into the little waiting room. Somewhere in the past few minutes, Mags and Mena both arrived, and Stella the stylist, with cases of makeup on the seat next to her.

“She’s okay,” he tells them. His voice is rough. He didn’t realize before how much his throat hurt. “No major injuries. She’ll be out for a few hours, but it might still take her a few days to recover.”

Mena knits her eyebrows.

“Why would it take her a few days if she doesn’t have any major injuries?”

“She… She, um….”

“She snapped,” Stella says for him. “It’s a shame. She was such a sweet girl. She was _not_ built for the Games.”

“Anyway.” Finnick clears his throat. “Today is going to be long. You should all get some rest.”

“You?” Mags asks. He shakes his head.

“I can’t. You know I can’t.”

“Waste,” Stella mutters, picking her cases up. There’s only two of them, but they’re both huge. Just one of them could easily break her in half.

“I’m sorry,” Finnick tells her.

“For what? It’s not your fault,” she assures him, pulling herself back over to the elevator.

“You came all this way—“

“It’s my job,” she says. She bends, awkwardly, to press the button with her elbow. “Anyone coming with me?”

Mena stands and joins the stylist, her shoes clacking joyfully on the hard floor. She turns and looks at Finnick.

“Unless you need me for anything?” she asks. He shakes his head. The elevator dings, and the doors open.

“You should go, too,” he murmurs to Mags. She touches his arm. A solidarity gesture. She won’t go without him. He wants to feel annoyed at that. She spent a lot of time sleeping during the Games. She isn’t doing well. She needs to rest. He feels grateful, though, and guilty for feeling grateful.

The elevator doors close, and Mags stretches out in one of the chairs to fall asleep. She can really sleep anywhere. Finnick has always envied that. He can’t seem to sleep anywhere.

He ties knots. One big loop. Pull it through. Repeat, until there’s just one big knot in his palm. Unravel it now, take your time. Three loops. Pull one end through all of them.

A nurse eventually comes up with two trays. Dinner. He wakes Mags up. She eats hers carefully, savoring every bite. Finnick doesn’t touch his until Mags scolds him, but even then he only picks at it.

He can feel himself coming apart. It’s a feeling he’s used to at this point, but he never thought he’d feel this way over another person. Mags, maybe, sure, but not someone who came into his life _after_ the Games.

He wants to sit in there, to close his eyes and just be near her. She came out. She lived. She’s still breathing, and she touched him not too long ago. She’s okay.

She’s going to be sold. The thought sits heavy in his stomach, but he can’t just dismiss it. Vera backed her because she wanted her. Probably still wants her. There will be others, too, there always are. He got her through the Arena, but he can’t save her from that.

He could try. He could go to Snow and offer to take all of her potential clients. He’ll double his time in the Capitol. He’ll double his hours, he’ll do anything. Snow will never go for that, though. If Finnick did that, he would think she asked him to. He’d kill her family anyway.

Snow could be setting it all up now, while she’s in the hospital. She’s barely been out of the Arena one day and she probably has a full lineup of clients already. He needs an idea. He needs a plan to help get her out of this, but he can’t think of anything. He needs sleep. He needs to rest, just for a few hours, so he can recharge. He doesn’t even remember the last time he slept. She’s out of the Arena. He doesn’t have to worry so much anymore. And, yet, he does.

A few hours later, a doctor comes out into the waiting room.

“We’re done. It might be good for you to be in the room when she wakes up. We set up a chair for you.”

Finnick mutters a thank you and stands up. He turns to Mags, who nods at him.

“Go. I’ll be fine,” she says. He smiles at her before turning back, to walk into Annie Cresta’s room, to wait for her to wake up.


	22. Never Let Me Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annie comes to. (Warnings for PTSD and suicidal thoughts.)

When she wakes up, she takes a moment to take in her surroundings. She’s in a hospital room. She’s in a surprisingly comfortable bed. She feels well-rested, for the first time in a long time. She feels a little dizzy, most likely from the drugs. Her stomach growls at her. She’s never been this hungry in her life.

A machine next to her bed beeps at her, peacefully, telling her that her heart is beating. The air that fills her lungs tastes clean, like chemicals. There’s a huge window beyond the heart machine. There’s no lights on in the hall outside it. There’s no lights on in her room.

So it’s true. She’s alive.

“Annie?” A movement in the corner. She reaches out for a weapon, but there’s nothing around her. She sees the IV bag, the medicine dripping down a long tube and into the crook of her elbow. That could do some damage. She starts to pull the needle from her arm, but strong hands stop her. She looks up, ready to fight this person off, but then relaxes.

“Finnick,” she breathes.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I shouldn’t have scared you—“

“No, it’s okay. You just startled me, and I’m still—“

“Half in the Arena,” he finishes. She nods. “I’m glad you’re awake.”

He kisses her on the forehead and starts to walk back to the corner.

“Wait,” Annie says, unsure of where she’s even going with this. He pauses. “Could you… Sit with me for awhile?”

She moves over in the little bed so he can sit next to her. To her surprise, he actually does.

“Do you need anything else? Water? Food? Another blanket?”

“No,” she says. _I just want to sit with you_. She takes his hand, just to hold it.

“What’s wrong?” he murmurs.

“I feel like I’m still there.”

“You’re not—“

“I know that,” she snaps. A short silence. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“I’m a lot calmer now,” she continues. “But my back muscles are pulling together, like there’s someone right behind me. I’m still expecting this to be a trick.”

He shifts so he’s lying next to her.

“I would tell you it’s not, but that won’t really help, will it?”

She can feel his body pressed against hers. He’s warm and solid. Something about him makes her feel better.

“I don’t know,” she tells him. “I think I trust you.”

He laughs.

“Well, that’s good to know.”

“I dreamt about you,” she blurts. The whole dream rushes back into her mind, triggered by his laugh or his closeness. She isn’t quite sure. “It was awful. You were in there with me instead of Sebastian.” Her stomach clenches. “It was you who… You… Holiday, she….”

Annie starts to cry. Finnick shifts himself again, moving an arm under her to pull her into his chest.

“It was just a dream,” he tells her, softly, murmuring into her hair.

“It felt real.”

“It wasn’t.”

She looks up, into his eyes. His eyebrows are, so slightly, raised in concern. A small line has appeared between them.

“You’re here, now,” she says. He nods. “And so am I.”

“And so are you,” he echoes.

“This is real. We’re definitely both real.”

“We’re definitely real, Annie.”

“And you won’t… leave me… like that?”

He pulls her closer and kisses her hair.

“Never,” he murmurs.

They stare at each other for a moment. Annie wants to kiss him again. She wants to do more than that. This isn’t a very safe place, though. Plus, last time, he pushed her away. She doesn’t want him to leave her. He’s so warm. She curls more into him, away from his face, but doesn’t relax.

“Tell me what else is real,” she mutters. She can feel him running a hand through her hair, untangling it with his fingers.

“Well, for starters, you never brush your hair,” he says with a laugh. “Um, we met during training at your school. You punched me and then cried about it.”

This time, she laughs.

“That’s right, I did. I almost forgot about that.”

He pulls apart a few more tangles.

“We swim together,” he says. “In the ocean. You love the ocean more than anything.”

She tries to imagine the ocean, but it turns into a wall of water. It crashes through everything, through trees and buildings, until it hits her. She can feel the water fill her mouth and nose. Above it all, she hears that noise. That horrible, high-pitched noise that buries itself in through her ears. She tries to slap her hands over her ears, but Finnick’s limbs are in her way. She tries to push him away, but she feels his arms get tighter around her. Then his forehead is pressed to hers, their noses brushing together.

“Hey,” he whispers, stroking her back. “Hey, I’m sorry. You’re safe. You’re with me. We’re in a hospital and we’re safe. You’re out, and you’ll never have to go back in. Okay? Annie?”

Annie. He never called her that before. It was Cresta, always Cresta. She wonders what changed. That’s a question for another time, though. She pushes herself, just a little, away from him so she can look into his eyes again.

“You’re okay, Annie,” he murmurs. “You’re safe. That’s real.”

She lays her hands against his chest. They don’t talk for awhile. She can feel him breathing. She can feel his heart beating.

“Finnick?” she whispers.

“Annie?”

“What else is real?”

He pulls her back into his chest and buries his face in her hair.

“You are, without a doubt, the kindest, bravest, funniest, most aggravating person I know.”

He kisses the top of her head.

Her voice breaks when she whispers, “What else?”

“I’m so beyond relieved you’re alive, Annie,” he says. She realizes he’s crying. So is she. “If anyone deserves to be alive, it’s you.”

_That’s not true. That’s not true at all. Sebastian deserves to be alive. And Hera. And everyone else_. She should be dead now, anyway. If the Capitol hadn’t ruined her plan, if they hadn’t blown up the dam before she could get to it, she would be. They would’ve scraped her body off the rocks and sent it home in a wooden box.

This doesn’t mean she can’t try again at home, though. There are a thousand ways she could kill herself now. There are knives, and ropes, and all sorts of things she’ll have access to. Or, if she wants to make it look like an accident, she could go to the cliffs, she could jump off and….

She looks up at Finnick. She can’t see his eyes from this angle, but she doesn’t really need to. She lays her head back on his chest and wiggles her arms to hug him around the waist.

“That day when I saved you?” she begins. “You weren’t cliff-diving, were you?”

His body goes stiff. He stops moving except for a few shallow breaths.

“No.”

“You were trying to kill yourself.” It’s not a question. He shifts uncomfortably, fitting himself with her a little better.

“Yes.”

She hugs him tighter. For a long time, they only hold each other. She can hear his breathing getting slower, but she knows he’s not asleep.

“I get that now,” she whispers.


	23. The Same Fate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> President Snow requests a meeting with Annie.

The hallway is long and made of stone. Marble, probably, but stained darker. Her steps echo back to her. There’s an eerie finality to them. She wishes Finnick was with her now. Or Mags, or even Mena. She wishes she didn’t have to make this long walk alone.

She was released from the hospital that morning, after three long days. The doctors fixed the residual pain in her injured arm and buffed away every scar on her body. By day, they did exams, they ran catscans, they did all sorts of neurological tests. On the second day, someone interviewed her. They asked her why she wanted to blow up the dam, and she told them that she was hoping she would die, too. They took all the sharp objects out of her room, and left a peacekeeper outside her door. By night, she sat with Finnick, and talked to him, and slept curled up into his chest.

This morning she was pronounced “stable” and was discharged, even though she’s never felt more unstable in her life. There was a car waiting for her outside, at the end of a line of barricades keeping the press and the Capitol citizens back. There were more than she thought there would be. A Victor who’s lost her mind is still a Victor, though.

The driver of the car ushered her inside, through the hands reaching out to brush her skin and hair, but stopped Finnick and the others from joining her. She watched through the window as they had a short, heated discussion. Then the driver got back in the car and drove away, leaving everyone else on the curb.

“Where are we going?” she’d asked.

“President Snow would like to speak with you,” the driver told her, as if that was a real answer.

Here she is, though, not half an hour after her hospital discharge, standing in the President’s Mansion. No one prepared her for this. Everything before the Games was about surviving the Arena. No one told her what to do if she lived, and she didn’t think to ask. She didn’t think she would be leaving.

What could the President want to talk to her about? Undoubtedly something concerning the Games. Or maybe an outline for her new life as a Victor. _It can’t be anything awful_ , she tells herself. _I just won the Hunger Games_.

But then she remembers hearing Finnick talk to Mags. What did he even say? _I don’t want her to end up like me_. Something like that. What does that mean, though? Her teeth and stomach are on edge. No, Snow wouldn’t abduct her off the street to speak with her alone if it was something good.

She clenches her hands into fists to stop them from shaking.

The hallway eventually takes her to a large door. She knocks, tentatively.

“Come in,” a voice tells her from within.

The room inside is surprisingly small and cozy. She was expecting something more like her hotel from training; some giant silver room meant to make you feel cold and alone. This room, though, is decorated with a lot of warm colors. The air smells vaguely of roses and metal. There’s an ornate fireplace set into the far wall. It’s empty now, but she can imagine how inviting and warm it would be in cold weather.

The President sits behind a large desk, carved from stone, that matches the fireplace. She’s never seen him in person before. His skin looks tight across his face. His lips are large. His eyes are red and watery. He doesn’t look very powerful. He just looks like a sick old man.

“Ah, Miss Cresta,” he says. “Please, have a seat.”

He gestures to the chair across from his, and she sits down on the very edge of it. The room feels warm and inviting, but that makes her more nervous somehow. It’s so out of place. It’s like he’s trying too hard to show how nice he can be.

“You wanted to speak with me?” she asks.

“Yes, I do. I had some business to discuss with you, but that can wait for a moment.” He smiles at her. “First of all, I’d like to congratulate you. You gave quite a performance in there.”

“Thank you,” she murmurs. _It wasn’t a performance_ , she thinks. He probably knows that, though.

“I trust you were treated well in the hospital?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Good. Good. I don’t like to hear about our Victors being unhappy. Oh, speaking of which, how rude of me. Would you like anything to drink? Water? Tea?”

“No thank you,” she answers. “I’m fine.”

He smiles again. Annie forces herself to smile back, even though that’s the last thing she feels like doing. She feels like running back out that door to find the Training Center, and Finnick, but she has no idea where she is in relation to it. She stays seated. She does as is expected of her.

“Now,” Snow says after a short pause. “We don’t usually find ourselves in a predicament like this with the Victors. Usually, the public reacts strongly, one way or the other, and we can decide, immediately after the Games, what exactly we should do with them.”

Annie takes a deep breath and holds it. When he speaks, the smell of roses fills the air. She could almost gag on it.

“Do with them?” she asks in a small voice.

He gives her another small smile.

“Tell me, Miss Cresta, have you heard the rumors about your mentor?”

Of course she’s heard them. Girls in the hall at school would whisper and giggle over his pictures, over the stories about him that spread out from the Capitol. Finnick Odair spends his days flitting from bed to bed of other people with big names. Finnick Odair has taken another lover, this one with even more money than the last. Finnick Odair was seen stumbling from this night club or that night club, with some important Capitol socialite hanging all over him.

She knows the truth, though. He does that, sure, but he hates it. He likes her. He prefers her. Some part of her knows that.

She nods to Snow.

“Of course you have. Now, I trust you haven’t heard any of these other rumors, these more recent ones, that have started to come out since you went into the Arena? No one repeated them to you at the hospital?”

“What do you mean?”

He ignores her and turns to his roses.

“Like I told you a moment ago, you’re in a very odd position right now,” he tells her. “You were the favorite before entering the Arena, I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that. People started to sour on you, though, once you showed your truer colors.”

“What does this have to do with Finnick?” She doesn’t feel the words leave her mouth, but she knows she said them.

“Everything, Miss Cresta,” he says, looking back to her. “You can’t know what he did, or didn’t, do to keep you alive. But does that make you any less responsible? You’re the one reaping the rewards of his behavior, after all.”

“Whatever he did, I had no idea, I—“

He puts up a hand to cut her off and plucks a single white rose from the bouquet. He hands it to her. She takes it in her shaking hands and brings it to her nose. The smell is too strong. It’s sweet, like it should be, but underneath there’s iron, and salt, and rust. _Blood,_ she realizes. Suddenly she can’t breathe.

“A lot of people, who I’ve been working quite hard to keep happy, have come to me with certain _complaints_.” He straightens the vase and looks back at her with calm, dead eyes. “They think he’s… pulling away from the life he’s been given. He fought very hard for you. Given his reputation, and the relationship you had with him prior to your volunteering, people have begun to think that there’s something _happening_ between the two of you.”

There’s a long moment of silence. Annie can feel herself shaking, but Snow stares at her with ease and comfort.

“There’s nothing,” she finally says, keeping her voice steady. “Nothing at all.”

“Good,” he says softly. “And let’s keep it that way.”

“I don’t understand what any of this has to do with me.”

He smiles at her again.

“Oh, Miss Cresta. I’d like you to share his fate, so to speak.”

Her stomach jumps. Her heart pounds against her ribcage in quick, irregular beats.

“What exactly would that fate hold for me?” she asks.

“There are people in this city, very important people, and part of my job is to keep them happy. You’re at a crossroads with these people, and a lot of people across Panem. They will either love you, or they will forget you, and that all depends on how you present yourself tonight. Your image is in your hands now, Miss Cresta. Whatever choices you make will determine the choices that I will make.” He leans forward in his chair and smirks, just slightly. “Look at this the romantic way: This will just be one more thing you and Finnick have in common. I’m sure he was glad to see you again. You two left things on such… awkward terms.”

All the blood drains from her body. Her eyes go wide. He can’t know. He can’t possibly know. But then she remembers the feeling she had just after the Reaping. Like her every move was being watched. They probably have been, this whole time. No matter where she goes, from now on, she will always be on camera.

“We were both glad to see each other,” she says. She knows she can’t save face here, not with this man, but she has to try. Maybe he’ll appreciate the trying. “We’ve been friends for awhile now, so it was a happy reunion for us.”

Snow nods slowly.

“Good,” he says. “That will be all for today. You have an interview to prepare for.”

She smiles and mumbles out a thank you. The chair creaks a little when she slides back in it. She stands up and walks to the door, being careful not to run, not to show how afraid she is. Once she’s safely on the other side and she hears the door click into place behind her, she runs. Her shoes threaten to slide off her feet, but she ignores them.

The car is still waiting for her outside. She slides into it. Just before closing her door, she drops she rose that was still clutched in her hand.

The driver doesn’t say a word to her, which is fine. She can’t stop shaking. She feels like she could cry. She has to get back and talk to Finnick, possibly warn him, but she doesn’t know what about.

He’s property of the Capitol. She sees that now. He was concerned about her ending up like him: A slave to Snow. An object. A toy. Probably worse that she doesn’t want to think about. If she refuses, who knows what will happen?

The car pulls up to the Training Center, right alongside a path that’s been made for her. The metal barriers go up to the door. On either side, there are Capitol citizens, waving posters, shouting her name.

“Good luck,” the driver tells her. There are Peacekeepers along the path, at various spots, but otherwise she has to walk alone.

She climbs out of the car and begins to walk down the path. People scream all around her. Their hands reach out to grab her. They touch her shoulders, her arms. She feels fingertips brush, just barely, across her hands. Her hair is yanked from several directions. The Peacekeepers do nothing.

She wants to run. She wants to scream and pull herself into a tight ball that none of them can reach. She wants to disappear. Something stops her, though. _Finnick did this with a smile on his face_ , she reminds herself. _I survived the Hunger Games. I can handle a few people touching me._

She speeds up, but keeps her walking at a steady pace. She smiles a little and waves to a few people. When she reaches the door, she snaps it open and runs inside, just to collide with something soft but solid. She hits the ground and looks up to see Finnick.

He kneels down to help her to her feet.

“I’m so sorry,” he says. “Are you alright?”

“No,” she answers.

He looks at her face. He takes her shaking hands and looks at the crowd outside.

“He wants to sell you,” he murmurs. “Doesn’t he?”

She nods. Finnick lets out a deep breath and drags her over to the elevators.

“What did you say to him?”

“Nothing. I think.”

“You think you didn’t say anything or you didn’t say anything?”

“I didn’t say anything! He told me I have to decide. I’m in charge of my image now, or something like that. But he wants me to share your fate.” She looks at him. He’s shaking. He looks terrified. “Finnick, what exactly… is your fate?”

They step into the elevator.

“I have to talk fast,” he says. “Once we get upstairs, it’s all interview prep. You need to know a few things, and it’s going to raise a lot of questions, but we can’t really discuss it now. We will later, once I know you’re safe.”

“Safe? Finnick, what’s happening?”

“I’m….” He stops there to force a deep breath. Annie takes his hand.

“You don’t have to say it if you don’t want to. Forget I asked.”

He nods and looks away. The light above the door tells them they’re passing the second floor.

“If you refuse, he could kill your family,” he blurts. “I’ll figure something out though. You won’t have to refuse.”

He squeezes her hand back and looks into her eyes.

“They’ll kill my family?” she breathes. She thinks about her parents, the only family she has. “Then I’ll do it. Whatever they ask—“

“ _No_ ,” he tells her. Third floor. “No, you won’t have to, I’m telling you. We’ll figure out a plan. It’ll be okay.”

Fourth floor. There’s a little ding, and the doors slide open.

“Annie!” Mena shouts her name and drags her into the sitting room. “Oh, I’m so glad to see you!”

The last time she stood in this room, Sebastian stood with her. Mena strokes her hair, and Stella shakes her hand with a small smile, but it’s all wrong. She almost cries when Mags finally steps up to greet her. Annie can almost forget about the Arena when she feels the old woman’s arms around her. For just a few seconds, she might not have gone to that horrible place, she might not have watched her friends die. She might not have killed people herself. She might not be in the danger that she’s in now. She hugs Mags back, a little tighter, trying to hold on to that alternate reality.

She’s close to tears when Stella takes her arm and starts to pull her out of the room. Annie catches Finnick’s eye on her way down the hall to her room. He nods at her, ever so slightly. He’s telling her it’s okay. He’ll have a plan.

He’ll know what to do to help her, just like in the Arena.

She looks away from him just in time to walk into her bedroom, where her prep team is waiting for her. Stella gives them a few final words and then leaves, giving Annie’s arm a quick squeeze on her way out.

“Good to see you,” she murmurs. Annie tries to smile in return.

The next two hours pass in a blur. Her prep team swarms her. She doesn’t even remember their names. At the moment, she doesn’t really care. The one who looked like a giant fireball before has pale blue skin now, so faint it’s barely there, and his hair is jet black. All of them prattle on about her kills and her best moments and how glad they are that she won. She doesn’t listen. She sits and stares at the wall and lets them comb her and wax her and cover her with makeup.

When they’re done, she’s surprised at how normal she looks. Half her hair is in a low bun. The other half is braided with a strand of pearls across the top of her head, like a crown. Her lips are pale orange and shiny. Her eyelids are the same green as her eyes, and her eyelashes are thick and black. Her nails match her lips. She can actually recognize herself. She looks so grown up like this.

Her helpers drape a robe across her shoulders and show her back out to her bedroom. Stella stands by the mirror, picking lint off a sea green jacket. She turns, though, when she hears people enter the room. She looks Annie up and down, then nods. The prep team leaves silently.

“I’m going for simple this time,” Stella tells her. “Simple and casual and very adult. You took some hits at the end there. We want to show them you can be sophisticated, don’t we?”

She smiles, warmly. Annie feels bad for not smiling back.

“I don’t know if I want to be sophisticated for them,” she whispers.

Stella sighs and pulls down the garment bag.

“Then don’t act sophisticated,” she tells her. “The hard part’s done. I just want you to look nice.”

And she _does_ look nice, of course. Stella slides her into cropped pants the same color as the low-buttoned blazer that is now, thankfully, free of lint. There’s no shirt underneath the jacket, so the plunging neckline can reveal as much of her body as possible without being obvious about it. Stella clips pearls onto her ears, and wraps them around her arms. The final touch is a pair of heels covered in pearls.

“You’re ready,” Stella says.

They walk back out into the sitting room.

“Oh, Annie!” She hears Mena’s voice before she even sees her, perched near the elevator. “Oh, you look lovely. Are you ready for the Capitol to see you one last time?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” she answers. Mena laughs and holds out a hand, beckoning her toward the elevator.

“If I may?” Finnick interjects, stepping out from the wall and placing a hand on the small of Annie’s back. “You all ride down now and get your seats. I need a word with Miss Cresta alone.”

Stella grumbles something about making sure the outfit folds in the right way, but ultimately gets on the first elevator with Mags and Mena. Once the doors shut, Finnick pulls her in for a hug. His hands press into her back. Her heart beats a little faster in her chest.

“I haven’t really gotten to do that yet,” he murmurs.

“You slept in my bed every night in the hospital.”

“I know, but….” He stops talking and pulls away from her.

“But what?”

“Nothing. We don’t have time.”

The elevator dings. They’ve reached the bottom, and that means the box is coming back up for them.

“Tell me you thought of a plan?” Annie whispers.

“Sort of.”

“That doesn’t help much, Finnick.”

“I know, I know. Okay. First you have to understand what agreeing to his deal means.”

She watches Finnick take a slow, shaking breath. His hands twist together, like he wishes he was holding something, and she grabs them.

“You don’t have to tell me everything now,” she tells him. “I know the jist of it.”

He nods.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, and the elevator dings again. They step in and let it carry them down.

“So what’s your plan?” she asks.

“President Snow wants you to be likable on camera, right?”

“Right. Can we discuss this so openly?”

“Probably not, but we don’t have time.” He moves closer to whisper right into her ear, though. “He wants you to make the people like you again. So what happens if they don’t like you?”

“I don’t know,” she murmurs in reply. “Then I guess they wouldn’t want to… buy me.”

“Right. You wouldn’t have to refuse, but you wouldn’t have to… end up like….”

Another ding. They’re at their floor. They’re backstage again, and people are running around all over the place.

“There you are!” someone snaps, walking up to them. “We need to get a mic on you. You’re on in five, Miss Cresta.”

They drag her over to the sound station, which is really just a small podium covered with wires. Finnick follows her.

“What do I do?” she hisses while someone lifts up her jacket to fix a mic pack around her waist.

“Don’t hold back,” he tells her, looking directly into her eyes. “Whatever you feel, whatever you think, don’t hold it back.”

She looks back at him for a long moment then nods. Another crew person walks up to pull Finnick to his seat. Her mic is clipped onto her collar.

She knows exactly what he means. Show them that she’s damaged. Show the Capitol what they’ve done to her. Show the whole country exactly what these Games do to people. No one will ever want to come near her again.

And then her family will be safe.

Someone drags her into position just as the lights shine toward the entrance, and Caesar Flickerman calls out her name.


	24. The Poor Mad Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annie has her final interview and goes home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter! I'm already hard at work on the sequel (which will center around Annie and Johanna). Feel free to contact me on tumblr if you have any questions or comments. :)

The lights are brighter, and the crowd is more anxious, but otherwise it’s exactly the same as before. Caesar is laughing and smiling and holding out an arm to her. In her last interview, she would’ve taken his hand and smiled and waved, and probably cracked a joke, but this is not that interview. She keeps her head down. She sits on the chair without even acknowledging Caesar or the crowd.

She wants to hide. She wants to run off stage. But, no, she will not run. These people will see her cry and scream before the interview is over, but they will not see her run away from this. If she runs, they can spin it any way they want. She got sick, or she’s shy now, or she wasn’t ready. Anything to make her look cute or sympathetic.

She needs to be in complete control of her image now. Running is not an option.

The crowd yells her name. Caesar introduces her, but she doesn’t smile.

“Well, then,” Caesar says, working his magic to cover the awkwardness. “Let’s go right to the highlights, shall we?”

Annie takes a deep breath and lets it out, slowly. She forgot about the highlights. A three (or more) hour video that plays back the Victor’s best moments from the Games. She’ll have to go through it again. She’ll have to see it all again.

She’ll have to watch her friends die again.

The crowd cheers again. That’s all they seem to do. They yell her name and they make noise, while she sits on stage and sweats so they can look at her, or they watch and eat and make noise while she fights and kills for their entertainment.

The anthem starts. The video starts. Every face in the room turns to watch, except for hers. She scans the front row until she finds Finnick. He’s watching her instead of the screen. He mimes a deep breath and slowly nods his head, just once. She nods back.

She turns to the screen, just in time to see herself dive away from Lark’s arrow, behind the Cornucopia. She needs to watch. She needs to remember every detail, and keep them all fresh in her head.

If she doesn’t, her parents could die.

She wants to walk down, into the crowd, and pull Finnick up with her, but she knows she can’t do that. She has to be alone. She has to suffer and she has to be alone. No running. No asking for help. Not while she’s on camera.

She watches Hera fix her arm, and she watches Sebastian take care of her. This was barely a week ago. She watches herself climb up the dam, right behind Holiday. They show a close up on both their faces. Annie looks calmer, more alive even, next to the water. Holiday’s face is the same as she remembers it: terrified and small.

“Now, this next bit has some recently recovered footage,” Caesar announces. “Never before seen by anyone outside of the Gamemakers.”

Annie doesn’t have to time to look at the screen, but she knows they’re walking to the canyon. The noise comes out over the speakers. It’s toned down. It’s not the same as it was in the Arena. The audience keeps watching the screen.

Her hands start to shake, though. The memory of the noise jumps around through her head. She looks back at Finnick, who’s still watching her. She hears two loud cracks, and a lot of screams. Titus and Sebastian were just hit, their legs broken, and Annie forces herself to look back at the screen.

There she is, crawling on all fours to Sebastian’s side, and that’s when it all snaps. The noise is long gone, but it still echoes through her. She covers her ears with her hands and bites down on her tongue so she won’t scream.

The noise is still there, and it starts to change. She presses her eyes closed to block it out, but that just makes it worse. Dark shapes, flying through the air, turn into snakes. Thousands of snakes, hundreds of thousands. They group together, they grow larger and larger, until they block out the sun, and then, all at once, they turn to water and crash down on her.

She tries to open her eyes, but she can’t. She hits something, hard. The entire left side of her body lights up with pain.

“Miss Cresta?”

Who’s talking to her? She doesn’t know.

_Don’t hold back._

She opens her mouth to scream. Something wraps around both her arms, but it’s familiar. Whatever it is, it’s warm and strong. She feels thumbs stroking the insides of her forearms, and she realizes it’s Finnick. Slowly, her eyes open.

“This interview is over,” Finnick says, turning to someone she can’t see.

The screen is behind him. Sebastian’s pained face is frozen on it.

“No,” she says.

“What?” Finnick almost snaps the word out.

“No, I—“

“Annie,” he murmurs. “You don’t have to do this.”

_He was so young_ , she thinks, looking back at the screen. _They all were. So am I. We’re just kids._ She looks at Finnick. _All of us are._

She stands, slowly, on shaking feet. The audience gives her a shaky applause. Caesar booms something out and laughs, which makes the applause grow. She puts her hands up and smiles, which prompts them to grow quiet. Finnick’s hands are still on her arms, so she shrugs away from them. She walks up, almost to the edge of the stage.

Finnick told her not to hold back. Snow told her to choose her image wisely. Hera told her to blow the dam. The past couple weeks have been full of people telling her where to be and how to act. None of them ever considered her, though. Even Finnick’s advice treats her like a piece in a game. A mean to an end.

But that’s not who she is.

_Stay safe_ , that’s what her dad told her.

“I have something to say,” she tells the crowd. They all lean forward. She points at the screen, which is still paused on Sebastian’s face. “He should’ve been here, not me.”

A shocked murmur goes through the Capitol citizens. Fingers smooth across her back, but she shoves herself away from them. Her instincts are telling her to stop and collect herself, but she ignores them.

“I worked through these Games to get him home. Sebsatian is your real Victor. Sebastian Dehlia. He was fifteen, and he was brave, and he should be here.” She glances back at Finnick, who gapes at her with shock. He shakes his head and mouths the word _stop_ , but she knows that means to keep going. “I tried to save him, but I couldn’t.”

“Now, Miss Cresta,” Caesar says. His tone is light. “Don’t sell yourself short here. You did so well in the Arena! Didn’t she, folks?”

The crowd claps and cheers for her. She stops and glances at the cameras. Snow told her to pick her image. Her image, now, is one that the Capitol could view sympathetically _. He wants me to be whole_ , she thinks. _One way or the other, whether I’m full of rage or joy or anything inbetween._

She begins to cry; full-on wracking sobs drag her down to the floor of the stage.

“I wish I’d died,” she chokes out. “I wish I was dead.”

She cries harder.

“This has gone on long enough,” she hears Finnick say behind her.

“I couldn’t agree more,” Caesar says back. The lights on stage shut off, and then Finnick is helping her to her feet and dragging her backstage. She’s already stopped crying. Streaks of black rub off on her hands when she wipes the tears from her cheeks. General confusion and anger roar at her from the crowd.

_I am broken_ , she thinks as she rips her mic off and hands it to the nearest crew person. _He wants me to be whole, but I am broken_.

Finnick helps her onto the elevator. When the doors close, the chaos is gone, replaced by silence.

“That was good,” he whispers right in her ear.

They ride up to the lobby and walk to the far side, away from the street, to the first set of doors. Annie can see the train outside, waiting to take her home. The barriers are back up, but there’s not much of a crowd for them to hold back. The Peacekeepers aren’t even out.

They wait. She doesn’t know how long, but they wait. 20 minutes, maybe half an hour. The crowd gets a little smaller, until there are only a few people, 10 at the most. Finnick reaches out, tentatively, and takes Annie’s hand.

Finally, after what feels like a year, the elevators ding behind them, and heels clack on the floor, coming closer to them. Annie turns, half-expecting an army of Peacekeepers or ten thousand snakes, but it’s only Mags and Mena.

“We thought you went back up to the room,” Mena exclaims as they walk up. Finnick drops her hand and rushes up to Mags.

“Are you alright?” he asks her. She pats his arm reassuringly.

“It took forever to get out of there,” Mena continues. She straightens her bright purple wig. “They turned off the lights, and it was everyone for themselves. Annie. Sweetheart. You know I adore you. But what was that?”

She exchanges a quick glance with Finnick.

“I don’t know,” she answers. She wraps one arm around herself, protectively. “It just came over me. I really don’t know.”

Mena places her hands on Annie’s shoulders and sighs.

“I’m just so relieved you’re alive, do you know that? And I’d like to… continue being relieved. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Annie stares at Mena like she hasn’t really seen her before. There’s no difference to her accent or her sing-song voice, or even her facial expressions. There’s no difference to any part of her that Annie can see. Something about her is different, though. She nods and Mena smiles.

“Then let’s get you home, shall we? You deserve it,” she trills.

Mags takes Annie’s hand and walks with her, out the door, down the path, and onto the train, without incident. Mena follows them. Finnick goes last. The few people left are only there to see him. He waves and smiles and poses for a few pictures, but he’s quickly on the train, too.

It looks the same as it did before, but smaller. It shouldn’t look smaller. If anything, it should look bigger. Annie squeezes Mags’ hand and then lets go to walk alone to her compartment.

It also looks the same. She settles into the chair by the window just as the train starts to move. The force almost throws her to the floor, but she manages to brace herself. She watches the dark sky swallow the Capitol skyline, light by light, until it’s gone. Only then does she close her eyes and take a deep breath.

It’s done. It’s over. She survived, and now she’s going home. Snow’s threat hangs over her, though. He told her to choose, so she chose to be broken. She doesn’t know how that will affect his choices. She’s safe, though, and her parents will be safe. She has to believe that, even after everything.

There was no crowd to see her. The few people who had showed up were there for Finnick. No arms reached out for her, no hands grasped at random parts of her body. That wasn’t her choice. She didn’t reject them. They rejected her. Snow can’t fault her for that. He can’t.

_Can he?_ she asks herself.

A knock pulls her out of her train of thought.

“Come in,” she calls. The door slides open, and Finnick steps into the room, with something behind his back.

“I, um, I got something for you,” he says. “Well, I got Stella to get it for you, if you want to get technical about it.”

He pulls his arms forward, and, with a flourish, holds out her grandma’s dress that she wore the day of the Reaping. She practically jumps to her feet and runs forward to take it.

The fabric still flows through her fingers. The purple looks a little lighter, but otherwise it’s exactly the same.

“Thank you,” she says, pulling the dress to her face. It smells like soap. They must have washed it. There’s something under the freshness that she can’t figure out. It’s old, though, and familiar.

“You’re welcome,” he says. “Well, that’s all I—“

“Wait,” she says. “Can you sit with me?”

“I need some sleep,” he tells her. “We both do.”

He steps forward and brushes his finger along her braid crown. She’s suddenly aware that she’s still in her interview outfit. She kicks off her shoes and lays her dress across the chair.

“Sleep here,” she says, softly. “Please?”

He stares at her for long moment. He wants to say no, she can feel it. She shouldn’t have even asked. She knows that. He swallows a lump in his throat and nods. She nods back. He sits down on her bed and swings his legs up on it. She undoes her hair, pulling it loose again, and removes all her jewelry before lying next to him.

“Lights off,” he says, and the two lamps go out, leaving them in darkness. Moonlight comes in through the window, and a strip of light shows under the door to the hallway.

“I’m sorry,” she says.

“For what?”

“For asking you to stay. I know that you… that we… shouldn’t do things like this.”

“I think I would’ve ended up staying anyway,” he admits. “Well, unless you didn’t want me to, obviously, but… I wanted to stay.”

She feels the mattress move under her when he shifts his body to look at her. She stays where she is but turns her head.

“Good,” she replies. “I mean, I’m… I’m glad that you….”

“That I what?”

“I don’t know.”

He smiles. It’s small and doesn’t reach his eyes. He reaches out and takes one of her hands.

“I don’t know… what this is, or what will happen,” he begins. She watches his face, but he stares at their interlaced fingers. “But I just want you to know that… that I’m glad you’re alive. I’m glad I know you.”

“Me, too,” she murmurs.

He looks back into her eyes.

“And I, uh… I really want to kiss you again.”

This time she smiles.

“Me, too,” she murmurs.

He moves a little closer to her and leans in, but something makes her change her mind. The last time, they were alone, completely alone, but somehow Snow knew. She turns her body over so she’s facing away from him, but she grips his hand a little tighter.

“Hey,” he murmurs. “What’s wrong?”

“Snow knows,” she answers. “About the balcony.”

She looks back at him, this time turning her whole body so they’re actually facing each other. Finnick nods a few times.

“You should’ve told me earlier.”

“I’m sorry, I—“

“It’s okay. I understand. Just, next time.”

She nods and moves into him, to bury her face in his chest. The last thing she’s aware of before falling asleep is his hand tracing circles on her back and combing through her hair.

A few hours later, she wakes up to Finnick saying her name from his seat on the edge of the bed.

“It’s almost breakfast time,” he tells her. “You should probably change clothes.”

She realizes she’s still in her interview outfit. She didn’t mean to sleep in it. She’s suddenly very aware that there’s nothing on under her jacket.

“Right. I’ll see you out there.”

He leaves. She pulls her clothes off and throws on a simple outfit. Leggings and a flowy shirt. She runs into the bathroom and scrubs off her makeup before walking out to the main room.

It’s a simple breakfast. She has eggs and some little fish, and washes it down with orange juice. She doesn’t feel like eating much. After, she goes back to her compartment, just to sit and watch the scenery go by. She wishes she knew where exactly they were. District 2? 3? Are they in 4 yet? Or is she way off? Are they in District 6 or 7 or 8? She has no way of really knowing.

She absent-mindedly plays with her grandmother’s dress, letting the fabric run through her hands, and being careful not to unravel the loose strings along the hem. She’s almost home. Not much longer, and she’ll be there.

They pull into the District 4 station a little before lunchtime. Annie actually rushes out onto the platform, with the dress around her shoulders, ahead of the others. Flashes go off in her eyes, cameras zoom in on her, reporters yell things at her.

“Hey, Annie!”

“Mad girl, over here!”

“Now that you’re home, are you glad you’re alive?”

She stares at each one in turn, but doesn’t say anything. She takes a step forward and sees a camera pointed in her face.

She chose to be broken, so she breaks. She starts to hyperventilate, her shaking hands brush the cameras away, and she runs.

“Miss Cresta won’t be taking questions at this time,” she hears Finnick say behind her. The reporters start screaming at him instead.

She keeps running, keeps shoving, searching for the two faces she wants to see the most. They’re not there, though. She turns around in circles, jumps in the air, anything to see the surrounding crowd better. They all part for her, like she’s a plague to be avoided. Their faces are all mixed expressions, somewhere between pity and anger and fear.

But her parents are not in this sea.

She twirls back around and catches Finnick’s eye. She must look wild. She must look terrified. Something is wrong. This plan didn’t work. Finnick nods to her, mid-sentence. He’s saying, _go ahead. Find them. Go home._

She feels bad for leaving him, but only for a moment. She turns and runs, through the square, down the side streets, between buildings. It’s a familiar path that she’s walked many times. The buildings press in on her, but still let the air in. The air that smells like salt and sand and fried fish.

_This is home_ , she thinks. _So why am I so afraid?_

She sprints up the stairs when she reaches her building. She reaches her apartment and throws the door open, and her heart sinks. She tries to scream, but no sound comes out.

President Snow is in her living room. There are two Peacekeepers standing behind him, and one on each side of him. The two by his side each have a person by the hair, forced to their knees, and a gun jammed against their temples.

Her parents.

Her father is crying, slowly and quietly. Her mother is completely pale, but there are no tears in her eyes. She looks angry. They’re both gagged.

“President Snow,” she says in greeting. Her voice is shaking. She doesn’t care.

“Miss Cresta,” he says, politely, like he doesn’t have guns pointed on her parents. “I must say I was disappointed by how you chose to behave in your interview.”

“That wasn’t a choice—“

“Don’t lie to me,” he snaps.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

She looks back and forth between her parents. She doesn’t know what to do. There has to be something she can do.

“I was going to ask you if you had given our conversation any thought, but any intentions I had about you have been shot right down.”

“I didn’t—“

“You knew exactly what you were doing, Miss Cresta,” he tells her, taking a step forward. “And you still think there’s a way out of this. I’m here to remind you that you are no longer in control. None of the clients want to touch you now, but there are other ways that I can remind you.”

He snaps his fingers. She doesn’t hear the gunshot. They must have silenced their weapons. Her father hits the floor, blood pooling around his head. She can almost hear the cannon, she can almost see the hovercraft coming to take him.

She will never leave that Arena.

A shudder runs down her back. Her eyes go wide. But she does not cry.

“Now—“

“Please,” she says, cutting him off. “Please, tell me what to do. Don’t kill….” She locks eyes with her mom, who’s finally crying. “I’ll let you sell me. I’ll become like Finnick. Just don’t kill her.”

“You haven’t been paying attention, Miss Cresta. We are far beyond that by now.”

He snaps his fingers again.

When her mom falls to the ground, her outstretched hand is almost touching her father. This time she doesn’t hear a cannon. She hears the noise. It rings all around her, growing louder and louder. She drops to her knees and presses her hands over her ears.

President Snow only smirks and walks out of the apartment, careful not to step in the pools of her parents’ blood. The Peacekeepers follow him.

The noise doesn’t stop after they leave. It only gets louder. Annie pulls the dress from around her shoulders and clutches it in her shaking hands. She presses her face into the ground and screams until she’s out of air.


End file.
